Ginny Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
by The Breeze
Summary: Ginny Potter must raise her children without Harry - and Voldemort is still a very real threat
1. Draco Strikes Back

**GINNY POTTER AND THE SORCERER'S STONE**

**Chapter One - Draco Strikes Back  
**  
The wizard was well concealed, hidden so that even his fair skin could not give him away. It was a surprisingly clear day. Absolutely perfect, in fact.. He smiled, thinking of years of insults borne, unable to retaliate properly. Today would be different.

Draco Malfoy gripped his wand as he eyed Harry Potter's child, playing in the grassy meadow behind the hill that shielded Malfoy from view. He steeled himself, focusing on the mission at hand. For maximum effect, the timing had to be perfect.

Malfoy tried to ignore the child, who was trying to get a garden gnome on his toy broomstick. Even at five years of age, the kid was obsessed with broomsticks. Malfoy didn't have to guess where that predisposition had come from.

Pushing that thought out of his mind, he heard the clicking sound - like a cricket, almost - that indicated his partner was in place, ready to strike. Malfoy was a bit disappointed; his partner would be the one casting the curses this time; all Malfoy was doing was providing a distraction. Of course, the distraction that his other partner was providing was much more crucial. Malfoy remembered the instructions he had been given - "do something they will never forget" - and prepared to strike.

Malfoy looked once more at the Potter child, thinking of the child's innocence and vulnerability. Anger coursed through him as the second cricket chirp reached his ears. It was time.

Malfoy charged forward, shouting the incantation to the sky:

_"MORSMORDRE SUBSANNATIO!"_

A blast of greenish light issued from his wand, rising into the sky over the hill and forming into the serpent-skull that was the symbol of the Dark Mark. Another blast of greenish light, slightly darker in color, erupted from Malfoy's partner's wand, and struck its target dead center in the chest. The effect of the curse on the victim was immediate, much to Malfoy's satisfaction.

Malfoy ran up and looked down at their victim, as his comrade joined him, admiring their handiwork. With fixed stares of hatred, they looked at the limp body on the ground, before Malfoy's partner broke into a grin and spoke.

"You must have missed the "no trespassing" sign," said Ron Weasley, being careful not to get too close to the terrified _Daily Prophet_ reporter who, limp no longer, was not merely belching, but vomiting slugs violently all over his own robes.

The reporter's terrified eyes rolled to Draco, who just grinned and said, "You don't seem to like my little creation. Does it bother you?"

Looming above Draco, the Dark Mark metamorphosed into a face with a scar on the forehead, glasses, and wavy hair. The face opened its mouth and a huge yellow tongue came out and wagged at the hapless reporter, still lying on his back. The reporter's camera lay forgotten off to the side, a slug slithering through its shattered lens.

Ron's face turned serious again, as Hermione Weasley strode up behind the pair and put a hand around Ron's waist and eyed her husband's victim with a look that reminded the terrified reporter of his school days under Minerva McGonagall. He struggled for breath and felt his stomach heave as he violently discharged another slug onto his shoes.

"As you can see, my husband and his friend are a bit tired of the constant attention of the press. More importantly, they are very defensive of the privacy of my godson and his mother. I don't think you should ever come back here uninvited." Hermione gave him a sweet smile as she concluded her little speech.

Draco pointed his wand at the prone figure on the ground and muttered, "_Finite Incantatum_," before he adroitly stepped around a pool of vomit and knelt down before the reporter, produced a piece of cloth, wiped off a portion of the reporter's cheek, and gently touched the reporter's cheek with his hand. His gray-blue eyes bored into the terrified eyes of the frozen figure who was no longer vomiting but who was even more deathly pale than Draco. He spoke with a quiet, almost tender voice.

"Please don't ever come near this family again. Please don't make me do something to you more disturbing than what happened today. Please understand that I am not all fun and games, and respect this family's privacy, even if you quite obviously don't respect them. You don't even have to respect me, just stay away."

"Although you'd be well advised to fear him, mind you," muttered Ron as he looked over his shoulder at the disintegrating face in the sky.

"Why don't you go now?" Draco's final five words were all that was needed to send the reporter staggering down the hill. Obviously, the reporter was too weak to consider Apparating away from the site of his humiliation and just wanted to get away as quickly as his unsteady legs could carry him.

"We'll clean up your mess, don't worry!" called the taunting voice of Ron Weasley as the reporter vanished into the distance.

Hermione waited until the reporter was gone before rounding on Draco with fury. "And just WHAT was that...that...abomination, Draco?" Ron, curiously, was not looking angry at all, but indeed was struggling to choke back a giggle.

Draco spoke calmly. "I was just doing what I was told. You told me to scare the hell out of that idiot, while you distracted little Sirius and Ron hit him with his new spell. I did just that and tested my new spell at the same time."

Hermione was not to be mollified. "I told you to scare him, but the Dark Mark? The Dark Mark? Why, Draco? And why did that abomination turn into Harry's face? That's just creepy!" Hermione shook her head in disgust.

Ron coughed, nervously.

"Er, Mione, that was my idea. I helped Draco come up with that."

Draco grinned, and told Ron, "Worked splendidly, too, and I was pleased that you finally got that Slug Vomitorious spell tested. Mind you, it worked a lot better than that stupid 'Eat Slugs!' curse you tried on me a million years ago."

Ron's ears flushed red a bit before he turned to Hermione and tried haltingly to explain.

"Well, er, Draco and I were thinking that, well..."

Draco interrupted, in a serious tone, dropping all pretenses at his normal devil-may-care attitude.

"Ron and I both feel that this may give us a slight tactical advantage over Voldemort someday. If you think about it, you can probably figure out why."

Draco didn't say what was running through his mind. He knew Hermione would figure it out herself.

_Some day, we're going to face Voldemort a final time. He prides himself on distancing himself from human emotion, except hate. He hates, but he doesn't feel. Going beyond hate and forcing him into pure rage may shake his control. Voldemort loves to be feared, but he can't handle being mocked. I know this from very bitter experience_.

Draco's face flushed, eyes losing focus for just a second before fixing on Hermione again.

"And besides - " Draco broke into a smile again " - it was fun, wasn't it? I think Harry would have liked it."

Hermione just shook her head. "You two are insane. Madder than Dumbledore!"

Ron turned to Draco.

"Have we just been complimented or insulted?"

"Both, I think."

"Are you children done playing so we can get back to the picnic now, or is Draco going to dress up in hooded robes and go in for a spot of Muggle-torture to make sure his fighting instincts are properly honed for the greater good?" Ginny Potter's words were angry, but she was smiling as she walked up carrying little Sirius Potter in her arms.

Draco turned and looked at Ginny, and her son, and for some reason, could not think of an appropriate witty comeback. He gave her a wan smile, and realized it had been almost two years since her husband had died. He looked at little Sirius, and for just a moment, saw Harry looking back at him through the eyes of his only son. Sirius was grinning, and Draco gave a quick smile before turning away, quickly, tensing his jaw in an attempt to keep his eyes dry. After all, Malfoys didn't cry.


	2. Remembrances

**Chapter 2 - Remembrances**

Ginny Potter looked away from Draco and put Sirius down, who promptly flopped on his belly in the grass and began studying a slug with great interest. She looked back up at Draco and her brother, and spoke softly, "Guys...thanks. That was...priceless."

Draco's face turned serious and his eyes bored into Ron's as he spoke. "Why did just the warning go off? Why didn't the wards prevent him from approaching? That could have been," Draco paused for a moment, searching for the right word, "awkward, if it had been someone a bit more malicious."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Honestly, Draco, not everyone wants to live in a glorified prison like Malfoy Manor that has wards that strike intruders dead or whatever. There are people coming here all the time! The defensive wards only guard against those who have evil or malicious intent towards the occupants or their belongings. We still have the warning wards to let us know if someone gets too close without calling first, but really!" Hermione absently waved her wand and sent a burst of sparks towards Ron, who was levitating a slug over Sirius as if he was baiting a cat with a piece of string. Ron yelped and Sirius laughed as Hermione continued. "Everything worked just fine. Maybe you would know that if you graced us with your presence a bit more often."

Draco's eyes narrowed, but he was unable to reply before Ginny started to speak. Flashing an evil smile at Draco, she addressed Hermione in a syrupy, artificial tone.

"Oh, Hermione, don't be so hard on Draco! I quite understand his reasons for ignoring his friends. Draco has important work to do! After all, who else is so qualified to check out nightclubs for the Ministry to make sure that no Death Eaters are hiding in the robes of sweet young patrons? Western and Wizarding Civilization may very well collapse without Draco on the job! Not to mention the economic impact if Draco was to stop buying beer every night in his search for...what was it you told that blonde last week? Oh, yes,"

Ginny dropped her voice in an eerie emulation of Draco's, and pulled her red tresses tight in a bizarre mockery of Draco's slicked-back blond hair, "a little privacy, a little discretion, I would do anything to shake those paparazzi vultures. I can handle not having a private life...but it distracts me from my work, and that is so much more important than my desires." Ginny reverted back to normal. "You DO play the James Bond of the Wizarding World oh so well, don't you Draco? And I shudder to think what line you use on those rare Muggle women who fall into your sights."

Draco shot a look of contempt at Ginny, before speaking in his best condescending tone, "Really, Potter, you should know by now that it is not befitting a Malfoy to guzzle...beer," Malfoy sneered even more than usual as he pronounced the name of the beverage, "when there is such a variety of fine liquors available at the establishments that are discriminating enough to attract my sort of clientel. Besides, last time I checked, there was no beer to be had in your house, so of course you must forgive me if I don't treat myself to your charming presence more often."

Ron, feeling very left out, spoke up. "Uh, that's because we drank all of Ginny's beer last night."

"Oh yeah." Malfoy looked crestfallen. He wondered if his Auror credentials could be yanked if he summoned something to drink from a tavern without paying for it. Probably. He and Ron were not very popular at the moment, most likely because they were just too damned good at what they did. There was a time, shortly after his decision to join the late Potter's merry little band of commandos, when he was desperate to prove himself, and he followed rules to the letter. But then, that was a long time ago.

Molly Weasley's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Everyone back, dinnertime!" He couldn't see her, but the _Sonorus_ charm carried from the house at the edge of the field to where Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Draco were standing.

Draco said to the others, "Go on. I'll catch up in a few minutes."

Ginny looked at him, and her voice became serious.

"Don't take too long. Mom will think you don't like her cooking if you're late for dinner."

Draco laughed, and made a shooing motion with his hand. He had no intention of disturbing the Weasley matriarch from her grandmotherly fussing over all of them, but he wanted to be alone for a moment. Without regard for his absurdly expensive robes, he sat in the grass, facing away from the house and looking towards the lake, remembering a time years ago.

Six years ago, Draco thought. Six years. Draco saw the calm lake, and remembered when the lake, and his life, had been quite different.

_Malfoy gasped and spat blood as he phased into reality and had a brief glimpse of a living room before feeling as if his organs were being ripped and pulled deep into himself. There was a flash of light and he felt like a planet had slammed into his back. The air was forced from his lungs and he gagged as he tried to draw breath only to have the driving rain flood into his nose and mouth. His body trembled, helplessly, as he realized that a planet had indeed slammed into his back; he was spread-eagled against the ground with his head ten meters from the lake shore and his feet pinned to the ground, forming a V shape with the Potter house centered between them, off in the distance. He struggled for breath, still shaking helplessly, unable to raise his limbs more than an inch above the ground. The wind was so fierce that he could feel spray being whipped up from the churning lake. His wand, ripped from his hand so forcefully that it had burned the palm of his hand, hovered in the air, hopelessly beyond his reach. A flash of lightning revealed the furious face of Harry Potter above him, wand pointed squarely at his chest._

_Malfoy twisted his head, and saw what could only be Ginny Potter, her back towards her husband, wand raised in the air. Her hair was already drenched with rain, clinging to her neck. She was standing a few feet behind her husband, obviously in a defensive stance, attempting to cover him from some unknown threat as he interrogated the trapped intruder. Harry spoke._

_"It's Malfoy."_

_Ginny did not turn, but she just said "Lucius or Draco?"_

_Harry replied, "Draco, immobilized. So much for testing the anti-Apparation shield. Seems to work fine."_

_Draco flushed with fear. He couldn't help himself; even as some part of him hated himself for being so nakedly afraid before the man he had always considered his greatest enemy. "Potter, please, let me up, let me go, you have to listen, please, please, Potter, you have to hear, get me out of here, I don't care, hold my wand, just get me inside."_

_Harry snorted, and looked contemptuously at Draco. "You already tried to get inside, that's why you're here. Didn't your dad warn you that my house would be protected? Did you really think that I'm that stupid, Draco?"_

_Draco felt impotence and helplessness nearly overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, and screamed so loud his throat burned. "DAMNIT POTTER! He's INSANE! It's not about power, it's not about anything, he's evil, he's insane, there's nothing there, you have to know, you have to, please, damn you, damn you, just listen to me, I hate you I hate you and IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE because you can't understand, you have to know, Voldemort is absolutely insane, I never knew, there was no way to know, it's not about anything else than that simple, simple fact."_

_Harry was unmoved. "Ginny, I don't like this. Send the Call." Harry wasn't even bothering to speak to Draco; he was irrelevant, and Harry was not going to be drawn into whatever this sad attempt at a diversion was trying to accomplish._

_"DAMN YOU, POTTER, HE'S INSANE AND YOU'RE A BLOODY FOOL, YOU KNOW NOTHING!" Malfoy lay back, exhausted, defeated, broken. Another bright flash of lightning forced him to close his eyes, and he found he couldn't summon the strength to open them anymore. He had gambled, and lost. Any moment, the Death Eaters would trace him here. The Potters could retreat behind their wards, which would undoubtedly hold until they could summon their little friends, but Draco would be sacrificed, and no one would ever know, and Jennifer would have died for nothing, just like countless others who were victims of Voldemort._

_Ginny turned. "Harry...there's something different..." Draco's eyelids fluttered, and his pupils were wide and his eyes struggled to focus. She looked Draco in the eyes, and said, quite calmly, "Who's insane?" _

_Draco muttered, softly, "Voldemort."_

_Ginny frowned. "Voldemort? Not "The Dark Lord"? You say the name, Voldemort?"_

_Draco didn't have the strength to move. "Yes. He is Lord of nothing, except madness. He's going to kill me, and he will get you eventually, too. It . . .doesn't matter anymore. I tried. I'm sorry. Jennifer. . . I'm sorry." _

_Another burst of blood erupted from Draco's mouth, splattering Ginny's robes. She looked up at Harry, and simply said, "I'm taking him inside." _

_Harry's face twisted, and then went calm. Draco knew that every instinct in Harry's body was telling him not to let Draco into his house, yet he saw that he had absolute, total trust in the judgment of his wife. Draco realized, suddenly, why Potter had married the Weasley girl - Draco suddenly envied that trust, previously so foreign to Draco's experience. Draco saw Harry as he reached out and grabbed Draco's wand, his hand causing a shimmer as it grasped the hovering wand - obviously, there had been some sort of shield around it preventing anyone else from grabbing it - and nodded once at Ginny._

_Ginny reached down and slid her arm under Draco's neck, while thrusting the tip of her wand against Draco's voicebox. Her lips hovered an inch from Draco's ear, and the last thing he heard was Ginny's strangely gentle voice, "if this is a trick I will kill you, and I won't use magic to do it. Now, Apparate with me to where you tried to Apparate before. It will work this time." Then, there was blackness, as the stress of the final Apparation caused him to lose consciousness. His last thought was that he was going to Harry Potter's house, and he would be safe there, for awhile._


	3. Malfoys Don't Kiss Weasleys Do They?

Chapter Three - Malfoys Don't Kiss Weasleys - Do They?

Ginny's house was a bit crowded.

Hermione was bouncing Elizabeth, Ginny's three-year-old daughter, on her knee while her husband was pretending to steal the child's nose.

Edwin DePorter, a former Auror who had once worked with Ron and Draco, was studying a picture over the fireplace as his wife, Patricia, helped Molly Weasley set out plates. Edwin was somewhat exhausted; he had spent much of the day chasing Elizabeth around the field and doing tricks and stunt falls for her.

Draco walked up to where Hermione was sitting, and tried to ask her about the defensive wards around the house. He did have the decency to keep his voice low, but Hermione was still slightly annoyed that Draco kept harping on his security concerns. "Hermione...you say the wards work on people who are malicious. I suppose wanting to plaster Sirius' face all over the papers isn't malicious?"

"No, Draco, it's not. That fool most likely was dreaming of a big payoff for bring in pictures of Sirius, but he had no desire to physically harm anyone. Hence, the wards didn't work. Honestly, Draco, it's VERY difficult to configure spells that recognize emotional states or desires, and I would love to see you try it. Now, shoo and eat!" Hermione gave Draco a playful shove and he went to sit at the table.

"Mom, we had a ton of food at the picnic and now we have to eat all of this?" Molly made a face at Ginny as she scooped more potatoes onto Ron's plate, who had already devoured his first serving.

Elizabeth furrowed up her little face - Draco was suddenly reminded of a fierce eleven year old girl who had once told him off in a bookstore, a million years ago - and sputtered at Ginny, "I wanna eat more from grandma! Don't you be mean to grandma!"

The adults laughed, and Ginny blushed as the younger Sirius walked up to see what the fuss was about. At the sound of the laughter, Elizabeth's frown disappeared and she grinned a wide, toothy smile that made it clear that the little girl loved attention. Sirius rolled his eyes and went to jump on Draco's back. "Ow...ow...Sirius...my hair! Ouch! Be careful!"

Ron laughed. He leaned close, so no one else could hear, and whispered to Draco, "You took down three Death Eaters last week and I didn't see you so scared."

Draco leaned back over, as Sirius swung around his neck and landed in his lap "Never underestimate the raw power of a five-year old. I tell you, if Voldemort figures a way to recruit toddlers and small children we've had it."

Unfortunately, Draco had spoken a bit too loudly. Ginny strode up to him and planted herself barely a foot away, and looked up, her brown eyes bright and combatively shiny. Her hands appeared to be balled on her hips - Draco was just a bit too distracted to notice that Ginny had surreptitiously slipped her fingers into her pocket and withdrawn a pellet about half the size of a marble.

"Draco Malfoy. Are you saying that you would rather face the minions of evil instead of my adorable, perfect children?"

Draco stammered, helplessly, but before he could properly frame his response Ginny shoved the pellet into his mouth and everyone gasped as Draco turned into a ferret.

"GINNY! Did I teach you to turn your guests into farm animals?" Molly's outrage was interrupted by Hermione.

"Actually, Molly, ferrets are not technically considered farm animals. They were domesticated about two thousand years ago, but seem to serve no purpose. Much like Draco, actually. Well, Draco hasn't been domesticated yet, either. They do make great pets, though." Hermione had an innocent look on her face as she picked up the squirming ferret - she had never known that a ferret could give someone a dirty look, but she shrugged and put the Malfoy ferret back on the couch.

"Ginny, I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you." Ron was looking angry.

"Why? Because I turned your partner-in-crime into an animal?"

"No, because thanks to you, Draco can now go around saying that my wife held him while he was naked. Undoubtedly a step up from his usual conquests to be sure."

"RON! There are CHILDREN present!" Molly's latest attempt to chastise someone was not quite as effective now that she had also developed a case of giggles.

"I don't know, sometimes I think Ginny's kids are more mature than most of the adults here." Edwin made his observation with a wry grin at Ginny, who was suddenly distracted by the reappearance of Draco Malfoy.

Draco's hair was now most decidedly needing a trip to a mirror and a rendezvous with a comb. Strangely, Malfoy didn't seem angry.

"As I was saying before the lovely Mrs. Potter interrupted me, far be it from me to seek out a conflict with a Potter. My feelings are only reinforced by the fact that this is the second time an encounter with an angry Potter has resulted in me becoming a ferret." Draco thought that this occasion was happier than when Barty Crouch, disguised as Mad Eye Moody, had changed him into a ferret in retaliation for an attempt to blindside Harry Potter with a curse in their school days.

Ginny leaned forward again, kissing Draco gently on the cheek before whispering in his ear, "Thanks for being a good sport about this." She smiled at him, and Draco felt himself flushing, just a bit, much to his horror. Widow of his friend or not, Ginny Potter was quite possibly the most attractive woman Draco had ever met, freckles and all, and a part of him was always on guard around her.

Ron, however, had known Draco for much too long, even if Draco was very good at hiding a blush despite his pale skin. A flash of pique shot through him before he decided to respond with humor.

"Draco, Draco. First you crawl up to my wife as a ferret, then you charm a kiss out of my sister. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you had a thing for Weasleys."

Draco suddenly looked solemnly down at his feet, and then looked up at Ron with a pained expression. He put his hands on Ron's shoulders and stood before him, and looked straight into his eyes.

"Ron. This...is difficult for me. You don't know what it's like, living a lie, hiding your feelings. Being so close to someone so special, yet unable to do anything. You know how much your family, especially your sister, means to me. But there's something you don't know." Ron's eyes widened with obvious horror, as Draco continued. "You're right. I love those Weasleys!"

At that, Draco grabbed Ron by the ears and kissed him on the lips with a loud smack, and then immediately released him, spun around and jumped over a chair and ran out the door. Ginny Potter started laughing so hard that she had to grab Edwin for support, but he was laughing too, and they both collapsed on the floor overcome with laughter. Sirius Potter looked at his sister, and without a word each Potter child flung themselves at each adult in the room in turn, kissing them in an exaggerated way.

Ron, whose face had passed bright red and was rapidly turning the color of magenta, had whipped out his wand and set off in pursuit of Draco, casting an assortment of curses. Hermione called out after them.

"Ron, don't run off! Is Malfoy a better kisser than me?"

The last comment caused Molly to give up any pretense of maternal order- keeping, and she sunk into another chair, gasping for air as she laughed. Ginny looked at her mother, who was now being fanned by little Sirius and Elizabeth, both of whom had managed to acquire thin books and were waving them with great abandon in Molly's direction. Hermione looked a trifle irritated at books being put to non-standard uses, but quickly gave up that pretense and went in pursuit of her husband. Ginny caught Edwin's eye, and saw a wistfulness there. She wondered if he knew what she was thinking - _this is the first truly happy day I've had since Harry died._


	4. Pictures and Wine

Chapter Four: Pictures and Wine

It had been a wonderful day, and as the day turned to evening, the party grew more boisterous. A letter from Fred Weasley was read in which he apologized for not being able to attend the event but asked "to send my regards to our pale friend and ask him if he wished to invest in a supply of Fred's Ferret Folly Food, our newest creation."

Draco took his appointed role as Weasley guinea pig (or guinea ferret?) in stride, but shuddered when Ron decided to create a new drinking game which consisted of everyone taking turns going around to the dozens of pictures in Ginny's house, and telling stories about whatever picture the person picked. The group was then encouraged to guess whether the story was true or false. Anyone who guessed wrong was obligated to drink. Thankfully, Molly Weasley had withdrawn to a playroom with the Potter children so as to shield them from any inappropriateness.

It was Ginny's turn, and she was slightly tipsy, which meant that her brown eyes were darting around with more playfulness than usual. Draco thought idly that if Ginny was this animated on the verge of her thirtieth birthday, she must have been a handful indeed in her teens. Not for the first time, he felt a slight flush of envy of Harry Potter, his former enemy, former friend, and former partner. He beat down the offending thought back into his subconscious and tried to focus on the game - Patricia DePorter, Edwin's wife was speaking, and that was an event about as common as a lunar eclipse.

"I've always wondered, how did that picture get taken?" She pointed to a framed photograph on the wall, a Muggle photograph that was eerie in its stillness. The objects of the photograph, however, were anything but Muggles. Everyone looked at the picture, even though they, along with most of the wizarding world, had seen it countless times.

The jumbled rubble of the West Wing of Malfoy Manor was the backdrop. The foreground consisted of Draco, Harry and Ginny standing close together, with Ron flanking the to the left of Draco and Hermione to the right of Ginny. Everyone was looking at the camera, although Ron was squatting, holding a chunk of silver that thankfully was not recognizable as a hand. Draco was holding a magical staff at a slight angle away from his body, and Harry had the Sword of Gryffindor in front of him, tip buried in the rubble of Malfoy's ancestral home. Ginny's hair was matted and large black streaks were visible on her face.

Hermione was standing, limply, her wand at her side pointing down at her feet. She looked strangely frail, and her hair was limp and flat, in contrast to its usual bushiness. Only her eyes, wide open with a fierce expression, gave hint that the Muggle-born witch was not to be trifled with. All five were covered with filth, and more than one clotted gash was obvious. No one was smiling, but there was a look of confident superiority on all of their faces. All except Draco's, whose eyes were unfocused and appeared to be slightly sad.

"Just another day at the office." Ron's muttered explanation didn't totally hide his pride. The taking of Malfoy Manor, and the capture of Peter Pettigrew (minus his silver arm, which had been hacked off by Harry in a stunning display of swordsmanship) had been a memorable day, resulting in the final vindication of Sirius Black's memory, who, although he had been officially cleared years earlier, had still been regarded with suspicion by much of the wizarding world.

Ginny looked at the picture, and then looked at Patricia and smiled.

"I've always loved that picture. It's the only one of the five of us working together; it was rare for us to be grouped together like that, just too easy for one spell to hit us all at once. The Manor had already been secured by the Secondary Team, we were just surveying the damage. They moved in to de-curse the house and protect it after we took it. The picture was taken by a Muggle who had been being held and tortured there; we still don't know where or how he got the camera. We were going to alter his memory, of course, but it turned out he had relatives who were wizards and he had a good reason for knowing about our world. We kept the picture. He sure liked the royalties after the picture was picked up and reprinted by half the publications in the wizarding world.

Draco spoke. "Four times, the Ministry had sent Aurors to my father's house with the Order of Seizure and Transfer. Four times, my father had beaten them back."

Draco didn't have to explain that after a Magical Court had found his father guilty in absentia of various crimes it had ordered that his property be seized and delivered to his eldest law-abiding child - Draco. He knew that Harry's sense of irony had reveled at the thought of stripping Lucius of his fortune, and enriching Draco in the process. Draco had been living off of his Ministry salary since abandoning his father and Voldemort, and Fred and George Weasley used to joke about the oddity of a "Malfoy poorer than a Weasley" - not that the Weasleys were poor anymore, Fred and George's business acumen had seen to that. But Harry had always been aware of Draco's taste for the finer things in life, and Draco had been overjoyed to see his ancestral wealth and lands returned to him.

Draco remembered Harry hefting the sword and muttering, "Come on, let's go get Draco's money back." Money had never seemed very important to Harry but he knew that it was important to Draco.

"I think my father realized he was in trouble when Edwin DePorter, " at this, Malfoy grinned at Edwin, who was studying his shoes with a smirk on his face, "walked up to the front gate and staked the pole in the ground with the Order nailed to it."

"There are some advantages to being an Officer of the Court. I had the easy part, you kids did all the work." Edwin had actually been terrified at the time, knowing that there was an excellent chance his friends could be seriously injured or killed in the assault on Malfoy Manor. It was one of the very few times he could remember being grateful to the Ministry of Magic; the kindly justice who appointed Edwin to serve the Order had known that he wanted to be in a position to defend his former colleagues if need be. Edwin didn't regret leaving the ranks of the Aurors to become an Advocate - ironically, he often defended those accused of crimes involving the Dark Arts - but he did miss the comradeship that was so prevalent among the Aurors but solely lacking in the legal profession.

"Anyhow, to make a long story short, my boys -" Ginny didn't have to tell anyone that she was referring to Harry, Ron and Draco " - kicked ass, while those of us with brains - " a glance at Hermione was met with several eye rolls, " - made sure the boys didn't screw up too badly, and we got Draco his house back, and in the process stripped He Who Has No Income of his greatest source of funds. We were all amazed how much that turned out to damage the activities of the Death Eaters; after all, Voldemort can't go and file for public assistance and put his occupation down as "Unemployed Evil Overlord" - another of my brother's brilliant ideas, I guess he has to have some occasionally."

Ginny smiled warmly at her brother; at the time, everyone had made fun of Ron's obsessive muttering of "Follow the money. Follow the money." Not even Malfoy had been able to follow Ron's strategic reasoning of just how much his family fortune aided Voldemort - only Ron had realized that if Voldemort's network of informants, spies and Death Eaters used terror as its oxygen, it used Galleons as its blood, lubricating the wheels of corrupt officialdom, funding bribery, Dark Magic research, and sundry other unsavory activities. Ron had been the driving force behind the issuing of the Order, which hadn't been used in centuries - another fruit of Hermione's research into obscure legal precedents. The loss of the Malfoy funds and influence had been a crippling blow indeed to Voldemort, although Lucius himself had escaped the assault.

Patricia looked at Ginny as she finished, and then said, "I'd have to rate that as true - but I'm going to drink anyway." With that, she downed her glass of wine.

Edwin leaned over to her and stage-whispered in her ear, "Are you trying to get drunk just so you can tolerate me tonight?"

Patricia didn't say anything, she just refilled her glass and put it up to Edwin's lips, and tilted his chin back with her delicate hand

For some reason, Patricia's gentleness made Ginny think of Remus Lupin. Ginny looked at Patricia and Edwin as she idly pondered how odd fate could be - Edwin and Remus, who had been in the same year at Hogwarts, had wound up with women who were their exact opposites; Patricia DePorter was quiet, caring and reserved, possessed of an elegant dignity that sometimes made it difficult for people to approach her - until they actually spoke to her and realized just how caring and open she could be. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, had stunned everyone with his relationship with Evelyn Clearwater. The quiet werewolf and the blond, loud and rambunctious forty-five year old witch with the body of a twenty-year old had been the talk of the wizarding world for weeks. Evelyn's antics and fiery passion was quite the contrast to Remus' reserved, gentle demeanor, and more than one person had voiced the opinion that it was all a front to quiet the never-ending rumors about Remus' sexual orientation. But, Ginny had seen the quiet adoration in Lupin's eyes every time they followed Evelyn's every movement - she knew that adoration well, for Harry had once looked at her with the same unquestioning love and wonder. She missed Lupin's presence tonight; she knew that he would have enjoyed the evening.

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione, who was suggesting that the party adjourn to town and take in a Muggle-style movie. Ron, who had become obsessed with Muggle theatre and film through Hermione, didn't need any encouragement, and his enthusiasm quickly spread through the group. Ginny knew that her mother had to return to the Burrow that evening, and felt a surge of disappointment that she would not be able to go to town with the rest of the group. Her salvation came from an entirely unexpected source.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway of the living room and spoke to the group.

"Why don't you all go on, and take Ginny with you? She needs to get out of this house for awhile. I'll stay and watch Sirius and Elizabeth, as long as Mrs. Potter doesn't mind?"

The last sentence was said with a questioning glance at Ginny. Any misgivings Draco might have had about the offer were swept away with the look of shock and gratefulness on Ginny's face.

"Draco...are you sure? Either one of them can be a handful, and both of then -"

"Go. Have fun. Come home late. Just don't let Ron drink too much. I'm not there to bail his sorry ass out of trouble when he starts yelling that this is the year of the Cannons. Go."

Ron took charge, as he so often did. "Well, it's settled, off we go!"

As the group swept out of the house, accompanied by a chattering Molly Weasley, Ginny turned as she was headed out the door and silently mouthed thank you to Draco. He gave her a smile and a wave of his hand, and watched the door as it closed. He hoped Ginny would have a good time; he was looking forward to sitting down and catching up on some reading since Molly had already put the kids to sleep.

He turned around and his hopes for a peaceful night were shattered.

In the middle of the kitchen, far from being safely asleep in their beds, Sirius and Elizabeth Potter were standing totally still in their pajamas. They were both looking up at Draco with angelic looks upon their faces, and Draco knew that he was in very big trouble indeed - he knew all about Weasleys, Potters and angelic looks, and how they were usually a prelude to some form of outrageous behavior.

Draco sighed and said, "So. What do you kids want to do?"

His eyes widened as Sirius yelled "Dogpile on Uncle Draco!" and both Sirius and Elizabeth charged forward.


	5. Babysitting and Other Horrors

**Chapter Five - Babysitting, and Other Horrors  
**  
"MINE!"

"NO, MINE!"

"STUPID!"

"Draco, the brat called me stupid! She's not supposed to do that!"

"Sirius took my pig! Get me my pig!"

"BOTH OF YOU PLEASE BE QUIET! NOW!"

Draco's outburst had momentarily stunned Sirius and Elizabeth Potter into awed silence. They looked at each other and then Elizabeth grabbed the toy owl, which bore a remarkable resemblance to Ron and Hermione's ancient but still enthusiastic family post owl. Draco assumed that this resemblance explained Elizabeth's odd nickname for her toy.

"Draco! Elizabeth pushed me!

"You stole my pig!"

Draco didn't bother to give chase when Sirius took off after Elizabeth, who seemed to think that she could escape her brother in the kitchen. The thud of a three-year-old girl hitting a throw rug, followed by a high-pitched squeal and girlish laughter, indicated that Sirius had caught his sister and was tickling her.

Draco offered up a silent prayer that the two siblings would keep each other occupied for five minutes...just five minutes.

Fifteen seconds later, Draco realized it was probably harmful, somehow, to allow the youngest Potter to be tickled so long. However, before he could intervene, the laughter stopped, followed by Sirius's disgusted voice, "Oh, GROSS!"

Draco ran into the kitchen to see Sirius jumping up and down, shaking his arms. Drops of water flew onto Draco's face and robes. He glanced around to see the source of the latest mess, but could find nothing obviously destroyed or spilled - a state that made the kitchen look quite different from the rest of Ginny's house. Elizabeth, who looked at Draco with wide, innocent eyes, recognized his obvious puzzlement.

"Uh oh. I peed."

Elizabeth then started to tremble, her breath coming in hitches, before she gave up any pretense at self-control and started wailing at the top of her lungs.

Sirius attempted to explain by yelling over the sound of Elizabeth's cries.

"Elizabeth always pees all over the place!"

"I - DON'T - ALWAYS - PEE! I - DON'T!" Elizabeth's defense was long and drawn out, coming as it was in bursts interrupting her crying.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

The scent of crushed, fresh grass, spilled alcohol and toddler pee all blended together. His perfectly tailored and extremely expensive robes could be cleaned, but he'd never be able to wear them again without remembering this day. The unusual combination of smells, combined with the sound of Sirius chastising his sister made it impossible for Draco to clear his head. He opened his eyes and attempted to take charge.

"Both of you, stop it. Sirius, go take a bath. Elizabeth, calm down, please, and let's change your clothes. It's ok, everything's going to be fine."

Draco said this with his best voice of authority. He spoke with the cold confidence of someone who was used to being obeyed, immediately, without question. After all, he was Draco Malfoy.

He was the heir of the Malfoy family name, and its impressive, although not always lawful, heritage.

He was one of the top Aurors of the Ministry of Magic.

He had been bred, born and trained to rule.

He was one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

He had survived several face-to-face adversarial encounters with Voldemort himself.

He was also totally ignored by the Potter children.

Sirius had climbed up onto the kitchen counter and was washing himself off in the sink. The fact that in the process he was also flooding the kitchen did not seem to concern him. Elizabeth had run off, leaving a trail behind her. Draco went in pursuit; it wasn't that difficult since the trail was quite visible indeed on Ginny's carpet.

"Elizabeth, please, come back, you're making a mess. I...have some candy for you."

The sound of breaking glass from the kitchen told Draco that Sirius must have knocked something off of the counter. Several somethings, judging by the different pitches and sheer duration of the shattering glass sounds.

"SIRIUS!"

"Sorry, Uncle Draco!"

Draco gave up any attempt at control. This, after all, was why Draco was much more proficient at Contraceptive Charms than at child rearing. He slouched into an especially comfy armchair, which murmured in his ear, "I was wondering when you would sit in me, handsome." The magical armchair started to arrange itself in such a way that his neck and shoulders were being massaged.

Draco tuned out the sounds of Sirius sweeping up glass. He fervently hoped that Sirius was using a cleaning broom to sweep with and not one of Harry's Quidditch brooms. He could faintly hear the sounds of Elizabeth holding a conversation with her dolls, which were doing their best to make baby noises.

Draco wondered how he had come to this.

He realized that he was lucky to have lived long enough to experience something as simple as children making a mess. His thoughts turned serious, as he closed his eyes and thought back to six years ago.

_Draco was nervous. He knew his father did not approve of his girlfriend, and he had never, in all his twenty-four years, defied his father until now. Draco did not count the lack of the Dark Mark on his arm as a defiance of his father; it had been his father, after all, who had dismissed Draco's pleas to serve the Dark Lord._

_"Ah, Draco, I had such hopes for you. The Dark Lord and I continue to be disappointed. The Mark is not lightly given; you must earn it. And, while you carry out simple tasks with borderline competence, the same could be said for any house elf. You have yet to distinguish yourself in any notable way. It is not enough to desire to serve the Dark Lord; one must have some value to him to be accepted. You have not shown any desire to impress anyone, least of all our Master. Sometimes I wonder if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it didn't put you in Hufflepuff."_

_Draco flushed with anger. What did his father want? He did as he was told, but the few times he tried to take the initiative and strike a blow against the cause of Dumbledore and the Mudblood-lovers his plans were belittled for their amateurishness and he was mockingly told to leave adult matters to adults. The fact that he was eight years past the age of majority in the wizarding world seemed to be overlooked by his father._

_He had no way of knowing that his ideas had been twisted, slightly, by his own father and then presented to Voldemort as if his they had originated with Lucius. Lucius knew there would come a day when he could no longer pass off his son's plans as his own; he was convinced, however, that there was softness, a sentimentality hidden within Draco that had not been driven out yet. His taste in women has proof of that. Lucius reasoned that until his son became harder it was foolish to let some of his ideas go to waste._

_"Father...I will try...to do better. You said I could bring Jennifer to the Manor, I would not have done so if I had known you had wished otherwise." Draco, like his father, kept his voice down to avoid any chance that he would be heard by the young girl who was sitting quietly in the next room._

_"Bringing her to the Manor is of no consequence. The mere fact that you are involved with her at all brings your loyalty, judgment and sincerity into question. I expected better."_

_Draco knew better than to protest. He turned away and went into the room to join Jennifer, followed by his father. Years of conditioning to hide his emotions kept him from showing his disgust as his father did his best to appear the gracious host to Jennifer DePorter. Jennifer, to her credit, behaved absolutely properly, never giving a sign that she saw through the charade._

_Later, as Draco lay in bed with Jennifer, he idly twirled her hair, filled with confusion. Torn between hate and love, the desire to please his father and the desire to live his own life, he had taken his frustration out on Jennifer, as usual, who bore his caustic remarks with her usual reserve and dignity. Only a slight twitch by her left eye gave testimony to the pain she felt with every hurtful remark that came out of Draco's moth._

_Now, spent, he forced himself to breathe in the scent of her hair, and tried to push his thoughts away and imagine a world where there was no war, no family - just this woman, and the feeling he had when he was with her._

_"Well, Malfoy Manor isn't the depressing, dark chamber of horrors we all imagined in school. Unless you count your father. Your mother is kind of sweet." Draco smiled, and wondered just how his house had become a topic of speculation amongst a group of Hufflepuff girls. Jennifer's house affiliation had been the first cause of raised eyebrows by Lucius. Ravenclaws were acceptable mates to Slytherins in the eyes of the Malfoys, but Hufflepuffs were only fit for each other, and the occasional bottom-dwelling Gryffindor._

_"My father...is a great man. I know it's difficult understanding that. But..great men have to be hard. They have to make tough decisions. And that makes it difficult...to be around them sometimes."_

_"That sounds like an excuse."_

_"I don't make excuses for my father." Draco's voice had turned cold. There was a time when Jennifer would have backed off upon hearing that tone. No longer._

_She sat up, grabbed Draco's chin with her hand, and looked straight into his eyes._

_"Bugger your father. Bugger his stupid war." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when she put a finger on his lips. _

_"Bugger anything that stands in the way of your happiness, Draco. I'm sorry, you feel some need to please your father, but I'm scared you'll never be able to make him happy. All I know is that in the time we've been together, I've learned much about you Draco. You're better than he is. That's not saying much -" at this, Draco looked like he was about to go into shock, "- but you are far, far better than you know. And, just the few times you've stopped worrying about pleasing everyone else, you've made me so happy I could burst. Damn you, Draco!" Jennifer had maintained a level tone throughout her lecture, but her voice had started trembling at the end. Now, she closed her eyes, tightly, and lines crossed her youthful face, before she opened her eyes again. A single tear ran down her face._

_"Damn you. I'm falling in love with you Draco, and you are incapable of loving anyone back until you get over all this...this...bullshit in your life. Your father. Voldemort." At this, Draco flinched, but Jennifer continued, "He's just another man, Draco. Just another man who wants things. There's no need to avoid his name. He's not a god. He's just a man. And, the sooner you stop living under his shadow, and your father's, and God knows what else, the sooner you will be the man I know you can be."_

_"I don't know what you're going to become, Draco. But I know what you can be. I know you're too good for this. I don't know what I can do. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be saying all this, but I can't handle it anymore. Has anyone, ever, been honest with you just once in your whole life?"_

_She looked at him, and her combative expression could not mask the fact that she was scared she had pushed him too far, questioned things that shouldn't be questioned and challenged things that shouldn't be challenged. She knew that this was a crucial moment and that a door in Draco's soul was either going to crack open or slam shut. She waited to hear his response, to see what it would be._

_"I...I...don't know what I want anymore. I'm just...tired. Just tired. I don't want to think about these things. All I know is that when I'm with you -" at this, his voice dropped almost to a whisper, "- sometimes, those things don't matter any more, and I'm just with you, and that's where I want to be."_

_Cracked open, slightly, she thought. Draco was refusing to meet her gaze now, and she wondered how someone could look both broken and relieved at the same time. She held him, gently stroking his hair, for quite a while before he stirred and made a tentative gesture towards her. She responded, gently, but Draco's usual expert, confident touches that were both stimulating and frustrating in their arrogance were missing. He was hesitant, gentle like he had never been before and it was a long time before they were finished. She didn't mind._

_Later, he said very softly, "Do you think you could ever really love me? Could you ever really trust me?"_

_She couldn't quite tell him the truth. Love, yes, trust, not yet. He had so far to go. She was not blind to Draco's ability to take any attractive witch to bed with scarcely a thought. She had her own scars from his countless thoughtless remarks, his cruel taunts, and his never-ending mockery of everyone and everything that he seemed to think was beneath him. But she had made the choice to try to see him through to what she thought he could be, and it wouldn't do to shatter what little trust he had in her by saying she couldn't trust him._

_"I'm only too aware of how certainly I could love you, Draco."_

_Draco smiled. On some level, he knew, objectively, how poorly he had treated this petite brown-haired witch who had somehow gone from being another conquest to becoming very important indeed. He couldn't figure how she had penetrated the defenses he had set up, long ago, against the pull of emotions that could distract from his pursuit of power, both magical and political. All he knew is that when he was with her, he felt a sense of rightness that he could not find anywhere else. Jennifer DePorter has certainly attractive enough, and clever as they came, but her family was of no real importance and she was a bit too sharp with her tongue to ever be pleasing to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had not seen that side of her, but Draco knew it was there, and knew what his father's reaction would be. It was not helpful that her older brother was an Auror, and a particularly troubling one at that. He had even gone so far as to publicly disparage the Malfoy name, having been quoted in the Daily Prophet as saying, "Lucius Malfoy is living proof that good breeding and money alone can never be enough to buy decency, much less sophistication. He's just another petty thug, albeit a very powerful one."_

_Draco's musing was interrupted by a house elf cracking open the door, looking downward so as not to see Jennifer and Draco in their state of undress._

_"Begging your pardon, sir, but Master Lucius requests your presence, and your lady friend, in the wine cellar."_

_They dressed quickly, and Jennifer gave him a quick but intense kiss before saying, "Remember, Draco, you're better than he is." Draco didn't respond, and he would curse himself for that later._

_They went down many stairs, but just as he was about to enter the wine cellar, Draco saw that Perkins, one of his father's associates, was blocking the way. "Your father and his guest would like to see you and Ms. DePorter in the dungeon." Draco was a bit surprised; his father only allowed a select few to enter the dungeon. Draco didn't understand, since if truth be told the dungeon was rather boring._

_Jennifer reached out and grabbed Draco's hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it. Draco felt a wave of shame that he didn't have the courage to hold Jennifer's hand in front of his father, and the fact that Jennifer knew and understood only pained him deeper. _

_Draco was quite horrified to see that his father was entertaining another guest._

_"Draco Malfoy. I have been looking forward to this." Voldemort's voice, surprisingly high pitched, stunned Draco. He looked at his father, whose face was a mask._

_"My Lord. How can I be of service?" Draco bowed his head low, and said the first thing he could think of. What do you say when a being of incredible power tells you that you he has been looking forward to meeting you? _

_"Be of service. Yes. That IS the question, is it not? There was a time...you were quite the rival to Harry Potter in your school days, were you not? You were positioned so well. I must confess, I am at a bit of a loss to come up with a direction for you now. But then, I forget my manners. And you forget yours. Draco, you haven't introduced me to your lovely companion."_

_"This is Jennifer DePorter. She's...with me." Draco stammered stupidly, not knowing how to describe his relationship with Jennifer. "Girlfriend" seemed like such a silly word._

_"Miss DePorter. Of course, I know your family. And your brother. He and I, though we've never met, certainly don't see eye-to-eye on a good many subjects. I trust you don't share his views?"_

_"I try to keep out of politics. I just want Draco to be happy." Jennifer's flat statement was the first she had spoken since entering the dungeon._

_"Politics? Such a trite way to describe the times we live in. It is an exciting time, you understand. Surely you wish to see the traditions of our world continue; surely you want to halt the co-mingling of blood between us and the Muggles. It is a time to take sides, if there ever was one, for what we do today will affect the world for hundreds of years to come."_

_"I don't care about the Muggles. They leave us alone, we leave them alone. Sounds pretty simple to me." Jennifer allowed a trace of anger to enter her voice. Draco felt his heart plummet. What was she saying? She was being almost insolent to the Dark Lord. He gave her a look with his eyes open wide, trying to tell her to tread carefully._

_"There is nothing simple about the situation. We are in a war to change the world, and those who are indifferent to our cause may as well be our enemies." Voldemort's voice was becoming animated, and Jennifer began to be alarmed. For the first time, she noticed the two Death Eaters flanking Lucius in the dark shadows of the room._

_"I certainly hope you don't think I'm your enemy. Like I said, I just want Draco to be happy. If serving you puts him on that path, then I am pleased."_

_Voldemort had mistaken the tone behind her words. Jennifer was trying to pacify him, but it had failed. "I tell you how I define my enemies, and you presume to tell me that you know that you're not my enemy, when I said quite clearly that I viewed the indifferent as being just as hostile to me as those who actively oppose me? Do you mock me, girl?"_

_Jennifer was confused. His words didn't seem to make sense to her. She looked at Draco, who just stood there, his eyes wide._

_"No...I...you misunderstood."_

_"You tell me I misunderstand? Girl, you seem to have a lack of respect for your elders. Have you never been disciplined properly? CRUCIO!"_

_With that, Voldemort waved his wand and sent Jennifer crashing to the floor in a fetal position. He eyed her coldly, and watched her spasm as he flicked his wand back and forth and followed the contortions of her body. Each time he flicked the wand, Jennifer's body was jerked in a different direction._

_Lucius stepped forward, and put his hand on Draco's arm. "It is time to find where your loyalties lie." Draco looked at his father with horror._

_Voldemort released Jennifer from the spell, and watched in a detached way as she sprawled out on the floor, panting. Her eyes rolled up to Draco, met his, and in that moment, she knew she was going to die, and that Draco was not going to be able to save her. She knew that he was most likely going to die, too, but she realized that she had a chance to let Draco die with his soul intact._

_Slowly, Jennifer crawled over to the wall and pulled herself upright. She looked at both Voldemort and Lucius and did her best to speak in a level voice. "Is there anything that you monsters touch, besides Draco, that doesn't turn to shit?" She spat out the expletive with surprising force._

_Voldemort just smiled at her insult. "Oh, Miss DePorter, Draco is ours, and he always has been, and always will be. I think it is time for Draco to disabuse you of any notions you may have about his ultimate loyalties. Draco, please show Miss DePorter what we think of her lack of respect."_

_Draco stood, frozen. As the seconds ticked by, Lucius began to clench his jaw as rage filled him at Draco's inaction._

_"Draco! OBEY YOUR MASTER!" Lucius barked at Draco, the anger in his voice not quite masking his fear that Voldemort would punish him for his son's disobedience._

_Jennifer just looked at Draco and said, "Draco, you are so much better than this. And we're out of time. I love you, don't forget me." With that, she took her wand and faced Voldemort. "I don't suppose you have the courage to duel with me, do you?"_

_Voldemort looked shocked at Jennifer's insolence. "It is not a matter of courage. I only duel with my equals. And you, little girl, are hardly that. Perkins - Malmorto." With the last, the Death Eater who had showed them into the room screamed out the Malmorto curse and sent it square into Jennifer's back._

_Unlike the Avada Kedavra curse, the Malmorto curse could be blocked and defended against, if the target was quick enough. Jennifer wasn't. Unlike Avada Kedavra, Malmorto did not kill quickly, but tortured its victim by having their internal organs start to shrivel inside their very bodies. It was slow, and exceptionally painful. Jennifer's screams filled the dungeon as Draco stepped forward and cast the countercurse on Jennifer, who lay on the ground with blood pouring from every orifice and her eyes rolling helplessly. She started whimpering as Draco was slammed with three different curses at once by the two Death Eaters and his father._

_Draco reeled under the assault, but somehow managed to spin around and raised his arm to prepare to curse Voldemort._

_"AVADA KE-" Draco's curse was cut short by Perkins who punched Draco in the stomach and grabbed his wand as Draco doubled over in pain. He then brought down his fist on the back of Draco's neck and sent him sprawling to the floor._

_"Oh Draco, you are such a disappointment. I had such hopes for you. Don't kill him yet, we may have use for him. Perkins, Bellingham, amuse yourselves. Do what you like with the girl, but make sure she's dead by the end of the day. Keep Draco alive, for now, but make sure he understands the consequences of his actions. Lucius, with me."_

_Voldemort turned and left the room. Lucius followed, but before he left he looked at Draco, lying on the floor, and said, "I have no son. Sometimes I wonder if I ever did."_

_The next hours were filled with the screams of Jennifer and Draco. The two Death Eaters refused to use their magic on Draco, instead beating him with their fists and an assortment of blunt objects from around the dungeon. Draco tried many times to escape, but was beaten back by the sheer physical brutality of his two young tormentors._

_Jennifer was not so fortunate. It appeared that Perkins and Bellingham were relatively new Death Eaters, and were not as well versed in curses as one would expect. They viewed it as great sport to practice on Jennifer. Draco wasn't quite sure when she finally died, but when her one remaining eye stared lifelessly at him as her head rolled loosely on her neck, he felt relief that her suffering was over. Perkins and Bellingham were sitting in the corner, drinking mead and laughing, as they watched Draco pull his broken body to Jennifer. They regarded him with amusement as he cradled her shattered body in his arms, rocking back and forth whispering endearments to her corpse that he had never quite been able to say in life._

_Draco fought the waves of madness that threatened to sweep his mind. Somewhere, within himself, he swore that he would bring Voldemort down. He knew he had to get away and recover, and he knew that he would need allies. There was only person in all the world who could help him._

_Draco tried his best to clear off all of the blood from a small part of Jennifer's forehead, and gently kissed it. He murmured softly as his finger closed her one remaining eye. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." He lowered her head gently to the floor, and looked down as he rolled his eyes up so that he could steal a glance at the two Death Eaters without them being aware he was watching them. The young fools were talking amongst themselves, Draco's wand sitting on the table between them._

_Draco inhaled deeply, and with his last reserve of physical strength charged forward. He covered the ten feet to the table before they could react, and snatched his wand away before rolling himself into a ball and tumbling back away from the table. His two torturers ran towards him to try to stop him, but it was too late._

_The last Draco saw of the dungeon was Jennifer lying on the floor. He gasped out a sob as he Apparated away to the Potter house, and the storm that was waiting to greet him._

Six years later, Draco sat in Ginny Potter's living room. The night he had first came here, and been slammed into the lakeshore by the anti-Apparition field, he had been brought inside by the Potters. He wouldn't speak about what happened in the dungeon, but there was no mistaking his obvious terror and his sincerity when he looked up into Harry Potter's untrusting face and said, "I need a mediwizard. And security while I recover. And after that, I'm yours to command, Potter. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, no questions asked."

He never understood where Harry had summoned the trust from for him to leave the room, and leave his wife alone with Draco. He knew he never would have done it. He sat there, quietly, as Ginny Potter cleaned his wounds. He didn't know why or how he started telling Ginny about Jennifer, and the dungeon, and his father. He didn't know Ginny Potter, had never treated her with anything besides contempt before that night, but now he told her everything about what happened, and cried in her arms. He never saw the warning look Ginny gave Harry when he poked his head into the room after Draco had let loose a howl of pain, and the silent nod Harry gave Ginny before vanishing upstairs.

He had never spoken of what happened to Jennifer since, to anyone except Ginny. She had a gift for listening, and it was the first of many times he would be grateful to Harry Potter. He didn't know how Potter had known to leave him alone while he told Ginny of what happened, but he shuddered to think what would have happened to him if Harry had never left the room and allowed him to confide in Ginny. He most likely would have eventually gone mad.

"Uncle Draco...why are you crying?" Draco was startled to see Sirius sitting right in front of him. His wide eyes looked at Draco with compassion.

"I'm just thinking, Sirius. It's nothing to worry about."

"Are you thinking about my daddy? Mommy looks at pictures sometimes and cries, but she thinks I don't see her when she does it."

"Yes, Sirius, I was thinking about your daddy, and someone else, too."

"Oh. Ok. I miss my daddy. He was funny."

"I know, Sirius. I miss him too."

"Should I help you put Elizabeth to bed?" Draco smiled at Sirius's last remark. The little five-year-old was so adult sometimes, trying so hard to function as the little man of the house.

"Yeah, Sirius, that would be great. But you've got to help me find her."

"We'll never find her. She's really good at hiding, and she can fit into really small places. We've got to trick her." Sirius had a very serious expression on his face, and Draco suppressed his laughter and fixed his face in a serious expression.

"What do you suggest, Sirius?"

"We have to put her red doll to bed, and make a lot of noise doing it. She'll hear us and want to come help." Draco grinned and put a hand on Sirius's shoulder.

"That sounds like a great plan. What's the doll's name?"

"Emily."

With that, Draco and Sirius made a great show of talking to Emily loudly before taking the red-haired doll upstairs and tucking her into bed. They were on the second verse of a bedtime song when Elizabeth slipped quietly into the room; Draco was relieved to note that at some point she had changed out of her wet clothes and into fresh pajamas. He asked the little girl to keep her doll company and then turned out the light.

Helping Sirius get into bed, he said, "Sirius, I owe you one. I never would have been able to get her into bed that smoothly."

Sirius beamed. "It's easy, you know. You can never find her, so you just find what she wants and make her come to you. Works every time. Good night, Uncle Draco! I had fun today! I hope mom doesn't get too mad at you for wrecking the house!"

Draco did his best to look outraged. "I wrecked the house? Oh, no. Oh no no no. You're going to have to explain this to your mom. Night, Sirius." With that, he left the room and went back to the armchair, which cooed softly in his ear.

"You're so tense, let me work it out." The armchair began to work his neck, and Draco's mind started drifting.

It was a minute later when he sat bolt upright, realizing that a five year old child had given him the key to defeating Voldemort.


	6. Flying With Harry

Chapter Six - Flying With Harry

Draco was sitting on the floor absorbed in a piece of parchment. He was scribbling furiously, attempting to outline the thoughts that were swirling in his head. He was so absorbed that he hadn't noticed that a group of people had entered the house, but if he had noticed, he would have recognized that the abrupt halt of their laughing and giggling was a very ominous sign indeed.

"DRACO MALFOY! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY HOME?" Draco looked up with a start from his sitting position on the floor. He winced, and motioned frantically to Ginny.

"Ginny, will you be quiet? You'll wake them up and they'll just destroy what's left of the place. Sorry about your house, Ginny, but I assure you it's all for a good cause."

Ginny was not to be mollified. She let loose a stream of invective, a barrage of insults that was no less amazing than the fact it was delivered in a low tone of voice. Apparently, being a mother had given Ginny some incredible ability to express the most intense anger without raising her voice. Draco felt himself flush; he had witnessed the famous Weasley Temper before, and, indeed, had been on the receiving end of it from Ron, but he had never been subjected to the Ginny Potter version. He quickly decided that it was far worse than Ron's. He was quite relieved indeed when she showed signs of finishing.

"And don't think you can buy your way out of this, Malfoy. You have to clean this up, yourself. No calling your house elves to help you with this." Ginny fixed her eyes on him.

Draco looked past Ginny, who was standing a foot away from him, looking up at him. His eyes darted past her, looking for support. Edwin was studying his shoes, once again, with a trademarked smirk on his face. His arm was cupped around the soft bulge of Patricia's belly and the child Draco knew was growing there.

Patricia looked at Draco and calmly intoned, "You're on your own, Draco."

Draco took a moment to realize that she meant there was to be no shielding him from Ginny's wrath, which thankfully appeared to be abating. This was a good thing; Draco was anxious to discuss his plan with Ginny and Ron, as their assistance would be crucial.

Draco realized that in the interests of security, Edwin and Patricia should not be there as he outlined his idea. His trust in Edwin was absolute, but he realized that only those whose participation was absolutely necessary should know what he was planning. He willed himself to keep quiet until Edwin and his wife left.

"How much longer?" Draco's question had the welcome benefit of changing the subject from his dereliction of keeping Ginny's house safe from her children. Ginny looked like she was going to say something but just rolled her eyes and started picking up toys.

Patricia beamed in response to Draco's question.

"Four more months."

"What's the little DePorter going to be?"

"I know it's old-fashioned, but we've decided not to be told what the baby's going to be."

"Wonderful. Well, then, you won't be able to complain when I buy the birthday gift at the last moment."

"I'm sure it will have all the taste and sophistication of your wedding gift."

Draco grinned. He had given two wedding gifts to the DePorters - one in public, one in private. The public one had consisted of an ornate envelope with a simple note in it - "Patricia, I am confident you will need this in short order."

The note accompanied a gift certificate to a Muggle psychiatrist, entitling the bearer to an "introductory counseling session". The wedding reception had erupted in laughter as Edwin snatched the certificate away from his wife and read aloud the fine print describing the wide variety of things that could theoretically if mind-altering drugs were prescribed as part of the treatment. Patricia had buried her head in her hands by the time Edwin read the phrase "Abnormal sexual function can occur as a result of certain medications that may be prescribed over the course of your treatment." The certificate was genuine; Draco had searched diligently to find a psychiatrist who was odd enough to actually issue gift certificates.

The private gift had been given shortly before the wedding, mainly because Draco was afraid that Edwin would cry. He was right; the completion of Jennifer DePorter's last sculpture had inspired emotions in Edwin that made Draco feel he had received a bargain for the considerable sum he had spent finding and commissioning the best sculptor he could find to complete Jennifer's last unfinished work - a bust of the elder brother she had so idolized. Jennifer's last month on earth had seen her reconciled with her much older brother, who had violently opposed her relationship with Draco. The bust had been meant as a gift for her brother. She had been killed before she could ever complete the work, but Draco had spared no expense finding a sculptor whose style was similar to Jennifer's.

"Seriously, the wizarding world has always been a bit old fashioned compared to the Muggle world, anyways." Draco wished he could take back the words; he instantly felt like a child when he realized he was discussing the sociology of the magical world with Patricia DePorter, who worked in a museum and was considered quite the scholar. She could probably give a learned dissertation on the spot about the differences in culture between the two societies, but Draco was spared by Edwin announcing that he was exhausted and wanted to go home. Ron and Hermione hugged the couple before they left.

The door had barely shut when Ron spoke.

"I know you're dying to say something. I can tell. Spit it out, Malfoy."

Draco looked at Hermione, and realized that they were going to need her help as well. She, like Ginny, was no longer on the list of active Aurors, but they would need both the women for this plot.

Draco's face turned serious. He sat down, and motioned to Ron to do the same. Ginny sensed the change in atmosphere and also sat down, her house forgotten.

"Ginny, little Sirius gave me an idea tonight. We couldn't find Elizabeth to put her to bed, so we pretended to play with something she wanted so that she would come to us."

Ron's face went blank, and then realization dawned.

"Bloody brilliant."

"Indeed." Draco smiled back at Ron.

"We've spent years searching, searching and searching for the bastard. We know he has to bloody well eat. He has to bloody well take a crap! But we can never find him. We're always one step behind. Make him chase us for a change. I'm ashamed I didn't think of it." Ron looked like he wanted to pound his forehead with his fist.

Ginny looked at Draco. "So, you're saying that since we can't find Voldemort, we should make him come to us. What, or who, is the bait?"

Hermione finally spoke up. "I hope it's a what. I do hope you're not thinking of using a person as bait."

Draco didn't answer. Instead, he stood up, walked to a wall, and pulled down a picture. He looked at it for what seemed like a long while, before handing it to Ron and Hermione.

"There's our key."

Ron looked at the picture. Ginny looked confused.

The picture had been taken at the end of Ron's first year at Hogwarts.

The Trio.

Eleven years old, impossibly young, impossibly innocent, Ron, Hermione and Harry waved excitedly from the photo. Hermione was in the middle, looking like some sort of child queen with her two eager boy-knights flanking her.

"He came then, too. I was so jealous when you Gryffindors came away with so many points...all for defending a silly little rock."

Hermione didn't look up from the picture. She just said softly, "You need me to come up with enough research to make it convincing that you're recreating a stone, don't you?"

"Yes. We let him find out about it, and he strolls into our hands." Draco didn't bother explaining how they would deal with him once they had them; there would be plenty of time to plan that.

The four of them spent the next hour discussing the notes Draco had made about how the plan would progress. He wasn't sure how Ginny would react to the most embarrassing part of the deception, but she didn't blink an eye when he brought it up. Ron just looked very intense, but didn't say anything. It was only one part of the plan, and the discussion continued. Ideas were fleshed out, and other ideas were discarded.

Finally, Ron stood up.

"Good. Good. But, here -" He jabbed at one sheet of paper, "- we need someone not closely affiliated with us, someone who is familiar with us, and spends enough time with Ginny for it to be believable. Who?"

Ginny knew what was needed. She thought back, back to the last day she had spent with Harry. It had been such a glorious day up until the accident.

_The Quidditch stands were all but empty. In a short time, Ginny knew, throngs of eager spectators would be filling the seats, but for now, only a few people were wandering around, making last minute preparations. It was only a benefit match - not an official league game - but a charity match for St. Mungo's would be the only way to get Draco playing Seeker, now._

_Malfoy and Potter, competing again. The media hype for the "unofficial"game was second only to the Quidditch cup._

_Ginny looked up at the swirling Quidditch players. She didn't see Harry, but she knew he was coming out any minute. She remembered the day, not long ago, when Harry had finally had enough of the lies and blundering of the Ministry. The day when he had walked out on the Aurors, convinced that Fudge was still doing everything he could to downplay the threat of Voldemort. Harry couldn't figure out how Fudge had managed to stay in office for more than two decades, although he had been briefly removed following the revelation that Voldemort had returned. Somehow, like the Undead, Fudge kept coming back._

_"I give up, Gin. I'm tired of being used. I want to bring Voldemort down, but every time I've ever gotten a promising lead, they won't let me follow it up. Draco feels the same way. It seems we're being ordered to spend more time investigating Fudge's political enemies for possible scandal than we are actually hunting dark wizards. It's all just a waste of time."_

_"So quit, Harry. Just quit."_

_Harry had been shocked. "Are you sure, Gin? People won't understand." _

_"Who cares? You never really wanted to be an Auror, after you left school. You only wanted to stop Tom. If the silly Ministry won't let you do that, what's the point of staying with them? Forget what anyone else thinks, just quit and do something you want. Or nothing. I don't care. I love you and I just want you to be happy. Isn't there something else you'd rather do?" Hermoine and I are out. Why not you, too?_

_Harry had gone very quiet. He finally spoke, but it was barely a whisper - the faintest hope in his voice._

_"I'd like to see if I could still play Quidditch." _

_Ginny smiled, as she thought how excited her husband had been when he had been signed with the Chudley Cannons. He could still play Quidditch, indeed. Unlike Muggle sports, many Quidditch players saw their skills sharpen as they aged, at least until age sixty or so. The reflexes of a witch or wizard did not deteriorate as rapidly as a Muggle; indeed, it seemed that most professional Quidditch players finally retired because they had gained a bit too much weight as they aged. Weight gain made it more difficult to handle a broom properly. Of course, eventually, the reflexes would slow down, but conservatively Harry could easily look forward to a twenty or thirty year career if he wanted._

_Draco had shared Harry's frustration with the Ministry. He still paid a small army of investigators to gather intelligence on Voldemort, and he would turn over much of what he found to Ron or another trusted Auror, but Draco had also joined the ranks of professional Quidditch players. Unfortunately, Draco was revealed to be a bit out of his league when it came to being a Seeker; however, Draco had retrained and had turned into quite the excellent Chaser._

_Today's match was different, though. Professional players from many teams came out to benefit St._ _Mungo's, and Draco Malfoy was playing Seeker, once again. Although the match was unofficial, Malfoy was determined to catch the snitch before his friend._

_Ginny looked down, and saw Draco kissing some woman in the stands that he had brought to the match. Ginny didn't know her name, but it didn't really matter. The girl would most likely be replaced with another beautiful face in the next month or two. Draco was just like that. Thankfully, it wasn't her problem._

_She scanned the sky again, looking for Harry. Where was he? He would often bring his son an old robe or some other souvenir from one of the other players before the game, but the kids were at Ron and Hermione's today. Ginny suspected that Ron had offered to babysit in the hopes of stirring some maternal urge in Hermione, who was still steadfastly insisting she wasn't ready for children yet._

_Ginny was beginning to think she wasn't going to see Harry before the game when she was suddenly grabbed by an arm and swept onto a broom. Her hair blew into her face and she lifted a hand to pull it back as she clung to Harry with the other one. She was facing him on his broom as he swept higher and higher, a mischievous grin on his face. She reached into her robes for a small band and tied her hair back with one hand so that it wouldn't blow into her face. Despite the wind blowing past her ears, Harry's voice was clear._

_"Hi there. Come here often?"_

_Ginny smiled back. "I'll have you know, I'm a happily married woman." _

_"Can your husband fly like me?" Harry banked the broom and plunged towards the earth. Ginny gave a squeal and hugged him tighter, as he swooped down the field, a few feet above the ground, before rising back up in the air._

_"My husband can fly like no one else. And he's incredibly good looking. His only fault is a tendency to sweep red-haired witches off their feet with no warning."_

_"You swept me off my feet first, Mrs. Potter."_

_"I hope our feet never touch the ground, Mr. Potter." Ginny closed her eyes and hugged Harry as tightly as she could. His broom was drifting lazily in a circle, slowly gaining height._

_Harry inhaled the scent of Ginny. She was using some new lotion; there a tinge of vanilla. He ran his fingers through her hair before cupping her cheek and kissing her slowly. She relaxed her grip slightly and bent into the kiss, letting her hands travel up his back._

_"I love you, Gin. I absolutely adore you."_

_"I know, Harry. And after all these years, my heart still flutters every time you show how much you love me. And I know that even a hundred years from now I will still melt every time you tell me you love me."_

_Harry pointed the broom straight, and resumed a slow, level flight down the length of the field, high above the other players._

_"A hundred years...Gin...it's so perfect. You're so perfect." His eyes misted slightly, as he continued, "I just wish, I just wish...I have so many perfect moments with you, like this one. I wish I could just capture this moment, bottle it up, and save it for our children, so that they'll always know how much I love you, and how much I love them. I wish I could make this moment last forever."_

_"My darling Harry...there will be many more perfect moments."_

_He gave her another smile._

_"You promise?"_

_"I guarantee it."_

_Right then, she made a decision. The time was right. She would have another child with this man who she loved. She would wait no longer. Sirius and Elizabeth were beautiful, wonderful children and she saw echoes of her love, and her parents' love, and Harry's love every time she looked at them. She knew that Harry had been without love for so long, and was still guarded in many ways from everyone but her and the children. She would have another baby with this man, and spread the love just a little bit more. Tonight, no matter how tired he was after the game, Harry would get a little surprise._

_"You better win this game."_

_"Why? Do I get a reward?"_

_"If you only knew."_

_"How did I get so lucky to find you, Ginny?"_

_She gave him her best deadpan look._

_"It was your cute bum, I think. That's all."_

_Harry rolled his eyes to the side, pretending to think of something._

_"Knut for your thoughts, Mr. Potter?"_

_"Just thinking how adorable you would look with glasses, Mrs. Potter. After all, you obviously need them."_

_She gave him a playful slap. Brown eyes met emerald eyes and twinkled._

_"Now put me down and kick Draco's ass. I love you."_

_"As you wish, Mrs. Potter."_

_Harry swooped low and let Ginny slip off his broom back into her seat. He circled her once, hovered, and gave her a kiss._

_"Good luck, Harry."_

_"See you after the game."_

_"You bet you will." Ginny smiled. Harry had no chance. He would be a father the third time over before the night was out._

_He swept up into the air before angling down towards the field, signing to his ground crew to let loose some practice snitches. Ginny noticed that Draco had abandoned his date and already had an intense look on his face, practicing feints and dives and turns. No matter. Harry was going to win._

_Ginny Potter was supremely happy._

Two years later, Ginny looked up at Draco, Ron and Hermione. All she had was memories - memories and pictures. Pictures.

"I know who can help us with this little scheme."


	7. The Journalist

Chapter Seven - The Journalist   
  
"Ginny. Whoever goes along with this is going to have to embarrass themselves in quite a public fashion. And we can't tell them why. They just have to do it, blindly."   
  
Ron fixed Ginny with a stare after his declaration. Ginny was unfazed.   
  
"Well, I guess we need a true paragon of virtue."   
  
"That definitely rules Draco out, then," Ron grinned at Draco who flashed him a dirty look.   
  
"I could never play this role, Ron. For this to work, people have to believe -"   
  
Ron cut Draco off before he could finish the sentence.   
  
"I know, I know, can we not talk about it? I have been drinking all night and my stomach can only take so much."   
  
Draco and Ginny looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.   
  
"Ron, I think convincing the world that I'm in love with Draco is the only way this is going to work. Do you have a better idea?"   
  
"Not really. Why couldn't we just pretend that I was the sick one?"   
  
"Weasleys know how to keep secrets. If we were trying to create a stone to save one of our own from death, we'd be able to keep it quiet. Having Draco involved gives it the messy quality that will make it believable when it leaks out."   
  
"Messy. Quite messy, indeed. Alright, alright, back on track. Who is your paragon of virtue, our willing public fool?"   
  
Ginny didn't blink.   
  
"Colin Creevey."   
  
There was dead silence.   
  
"Damn. He's perfect. Do you think he'll do it?" Draco was the first to speak.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Why?" One word, abrupt. Ron needed to know why Ginny thought the mousy journalist would be up to the task.   
  
"He's a good man."   
  
At this, Draco snickered.   
  
"Man, indeed."   
  
Ginny elbowed Draco in the belly.   
  
"Shush. I know you never thought much of him -"   
  
"He was good fodder for me insulting your husband." Draco still took some pleasure in recalling the battles of wit that he had fought with Harry Potter in school.   
  
"- but he proved himself to be...a friend...after Harry died."   
  
"Friend?" Draco raised an eyebrow. The thought of Ginny seeing another man in the immediate aftermath of Harry's death was incomprehensible. Even now, two years later, while outwardly normal, Ginny could be strangely brittle at the oddest moments. In Draco's opinion, she was still not ready to start seeing anyone. He did not allow himself to think much on whether this was objective opinion or merely him trying to convince himself that he didn't have deeper motives in wondering about the future romantic life of Ginny Potter.   
  
"Friend, Draco. As in, someone to talk to, someone who was reliable and noble."   
  
"Noble?" Now Ron was smiling. "Colin?"   
  
"Noble, Colin, yes."   
  
Draco started waving his wand up and down Ginny's body.   
  
"Uh, Draco, mind I ask what you're doing to my sister?"   
  
"Checking for evidence that she's under the Imperius curse. There must be a logical explanation."   
  
Ginny was not amused.   
  
"Draco, Ron, if you two could stop acting like children for once in your lives, I will explain."   
  
Hermione, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout this exchange, suddenly spoke up.   
  
"She's right, you prats. I want to hear what she has to say."   
  
Draco and Ron did their best to look abashed. Ginny didn't notice, her eyes had gone distant. She had opened a book and laid it on the coffee table.   
  
It was a photo binder - with one large, rectangular wizard photograph. Ron looked confused, but Draco took one look and turned pale.   
  
The photograph was not a conventional wizard photo. A normal photo would show about five seconds of action, often less. This was more like a miniature motion picture - the scene unfolded over the course of several minutes before starting again.   
  
In the photo, Harry swooped down on his broom, scooped up Ginny, and engaged in what could only be described as an aerial ballet of pure love. The expressions on their faces as they talked to each other, the gestures of affection and kisses, all of it was like a condensed version of Harry and Ginny's marriage. It was an intensely private glimpse at two people madly, passionately in love, and Draco recognized the Quidditch stands, and the distinctive robes Harry was wearing. He would never forget that day.   
  
He spoke in a low voice, for Ron's benefit. Ron had not been there that day, except after it was all over.   
  
"The charity match for St. Mungo's. The day Harry..."   
  
Draco couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Ron understood immediately.   
  
Draco looked up.   
  
"Colin took this?"   
  
Ginny nodded.   
  
"I've never seen it before."   
  
"I know. No one has, except for Colin and I."   
  
Draco let out a low whistle. Ron looked confused.   
  
Hermione said in a low voice, "Oh, Colin." She understood.   
  
Draco nodded.   
  
Ron was still baffled.   
  
"It's a beautiful picture. But...how does this make him noble?"   
  
Draco, who had always received more attention from the press than Ron, answered.   
  
"Ron, if Colin had sold this, he would be the most famous journalist in our world. If he had offered it on the market, he would have commanded any price he wanted. When he gave this picture to Ginny, he turned his back on both fame and fortune."   
  
Ginny's eye's glistened.   
  
"This was my last happy moment with my Harry. And now, I have something to show Sirius and Elizabeth when they ask me about their father. And I only have it because Colin is a very decent man, and I will NOT let either of you two prats say anything bad about him, do you understand?"   
  
Draco and Ron knew better than to answer. Ron looked at the picture. Harry had put Ginny down again, and the picture started over, Ginny being swept up onto Harry's broom, laughing, deliriously in love.   
  
Ginny thought back to that horrible day.   
  
_The stands were packed with eager, rabid Quidditch fans. Draco's team was flying up and down the field, and Harry's team was taking to the sky. Not for the first time, she felt the thrill shoot through her as the announcer's voice boomed out, as she had heard so many times before, "I GIVE YOU...POTTER!"   
  
Harry shot into the air as the crowd erupted in a roar. Ginny was so happy. Her husband was doing what he loved, what he was best at. And the crowd was loving him, not as the Boy Who Lived, not as the valiant Auror, but simply as Harry Potter, Seeker. Ginny knew that Harry took more pride in his skills at Quidditch than in anything else other than his family. Fighting dark wizards had been a duty, something he had to do, something he was born to do. Playing Quidditch was something he loved, something he worked at, and Ginny knew that when Harry was recognized for playing Quidditch he reacted differently than when people pestered him about Voldemort or Dark Magic or any of the other hideous things in his past that he so desperately wished he could forget.   
  
The game was fast and intense. Even though it was a charity match, every person on the field was a star in their own right, and they were all extremely fierce competitors. Charity game or not, there would be no quarter given, no relaxing - these players were playing to win.   
  
It was only ten minutes into the game when Ginny noticed that Harry was looking away from the field. She thought that was quite odd - Harry never looked away from the playing area when he was looking for the Snitch. She was baffled when he whipped out his wand and pointed it towards his throat.   
  
A moment later, the entire stadium gave a start when Harry's voice, amplified from the Sonorous charm, boomed out, "HEADS UP!" The crowd turned to watch in horror as a small Muggle aeroplane streaked out of the sky, narrowly missing the top row of the Quidditch stadium.   
  
The aircraft impacted at the opposite end of the stadium from where the playing action was - closest to Harry. He immediately dove down and jumped off his broom, and cast a Flame-Freezing charm on the flames that were already engulfing the wreck. A moment later, he was dragging a woman out of the burning wreckage.   
  
Other Quidditch players were landing and heading to the aircraft to help Harry. Ginny watched as he went back into the flames, looking for other victims.   
  
Suddenly, there was a strange sounding POP and billowing clouds of thick, black smoke obscured the downed plane from view. Ginny watched in absolute horror as a secondary explosion erupted; she knew, instinctively, that this explosion must have had a different ignition point from the flames that were frozen by Harry's charm.   
  
Hence, the flames from the explosion were very hot indeed. She felt a ripple pass over her; the concussion wave was very powerful. Surely powerful enough to kill or maim on its own, even without the intense heat that Ginny knew must be at the root of the explosion.   
  
Ginny screamed.   
  
She fought through the crowd, trying to escape to the field to see Harry. The stands were a mass of pushing, shoving bodies, and Ginny's petite frame was no match for the dozens of people around her.   
  
Suddenly, a figure flew over her on a broomstick and grabbed her hand and plucked her out of the crowd. She looked up and recognized Edward Lazacs, a chaser for the Chudley Cannons - one of Harry's teammates. He had a look of worry on his face, but with one tug of his muscular arm he swept Ginny behind her and took her down to the field, landing near a group of wizards clustered around a burned body on the ground.   
  
Burned.   
  
Such a simple word. Absolutely inadequate to describe the horror of what flames can do to the human body. A sickly stench permeated Ginny's nostrils; she felt her head spinning. She felt her mind split in two; part of her, instantly, knew that this was different from all the times she had seen Harry in hospital. Another part of her, the active part, insisted that it was all a mistake, that Harry would surely be alright, and that she must do what she could to help him. She was dazed, for she knew that part of her was nothing more than a lie.   
  
She ran to Harry and whipped out her wand. She waved it over him, muttering spells to detect life, spells to stimulate the healing process. Nothing. She looked around her for help.   
  
"DO SOMETHING!"   
  
Blank, horror-filled faces looked back at her with no hope. She was dimly aware of a blond Muggle woman who looked to be Ginny's age kneeling on the ground nearby, eyes wide with shock. The woman Harry had pulled from the flaming wreckage.   
  
There was a pop as Hermione Weasley Apparated onto the pitch.   
  
Draco's voice.   
  
"GRANGER! HE'S HERE! QUICKLY!"   
  
Granger. Draco always called her that in times of crisis; he had once called "Weasley!" in the middle of a battle and three heads had turned, nearly spelling disaster.   
  
Yes. Of course Ron couldn't come; he was watching the children. How would Ginny explain this to them?   
  
Hermione had mediwitch training, like Ginny – but she was far more advanced.  She would know what to do.   
  
Harry could not be dead.   
  
Hermione's voice. Cracking.   
  
"Ginny...he's gone..."   
  
No. He couldn't be, he was so warm. So warm against her breast as she held him.   
  
She looked down and saw that her robes were drenched in blood. A jagged piece of metal was embedded in Harry's chest. That couldn't be right. Absently, gently, she pulled it out and dropped it on the ground.   
  
Harry's face, although bloody, was mercifully unburned. The glasses that he had not truly needed for many years lay forgotten on the ground; it was a very well kept secret indeed that Harry had insisted on having his vision corrected in his seventh year. The glasses he wore from that time forward were nothing more than charmed glass to reflect curses directed against a person's vision. They had saved him and baffled his enemies on more than one occasion. No matter; he would not need those glasses, ever again.   
  
She sat there, with Harry, for a long time. The fire was extinguished, only to have another fire flare up again an hour later. She barely noticed. The Muggle woman had her wounds treated to and her memory wiped; the bodies of two other people in the plane were removed.   
  
Through it all, Ginny sat with the body of her husband, not speaking. Some fool tried to cover up Harry's body with a sheet; Ginny blasted him with her wand and he flew back several dozen feet. Only quick action by Draco prevented the well-meaning person from sustaining serious injury.   
  
Two hours after the crash, Ron had finally come. He looked pale and drawn, and his eyes were redder than she had ever seen. He held his sister, and whispered into her ear. She stared ahead, not acknowledging his words but not resisting, either, when he took her hand and started to lead her away.   
  
She broke off and turned back towards Harry's body. She picked up his burnt hand, and looked for his wedding ring. It wasn't there. Somehow, it must have been pulled off in the attempts to pull Harry further away from the fire or in the attempts to resuscitate him. She picked up his broken glasses instead, and very gently, as if she was holding a sacred relic, polished them with her robe and put the in her pocket.   
  
Yes. That was important. Harry would want his glasses clean.   
  
She didn't notice Draco retrieving Harry's strangely unburned wand from the plane's wreckage; Draco knew that wand should be passed down to Harry's children.   
  
The next month passed in a blur.   
  
The funeral. A regal event indeed, it rivaled the service for Albus Dumbledore. In an incredibly rare gesture, the Queen of __England__ had sent a representative to the funeral, a throwback to the days when wizards and Muggles had worked together. The wizarding press was awed by the funeral, meticulously arranged by a robotic Remus Lupin, who even in his devastation fulfilled his final duty as heir to Sirus' responsibilities by looking after this final event of Harry's all too short life.   
  
Memories. Evelyn Clearwater, at her partner's side, taking command in her quiet, soft voice during the times when Remus could no longer speak but could only nod or shake his head in response to Evelyn's questions. Remus had buried many, many friends and allies, but no death had ever hit him like this. Even the death of Sirius Black, horrible as it was, had not shattered Remus like Harry's death. Harry was supposed to be the future.   
  
Ginny Potter did not cry.   
  
She spoke, she functioned. She bathed and fed her fatherless children.   
  
She did not show emotion, save for when Cornelius Fudge had shown up asking about his role in the funeral.   
  
She spoke to him in a monotone, describing in precise, graphic detail the way she would bring down his administration should he even dare to show his face at her husband's funeral. Harry had never publicly challenged Fudge, thinking that the wizarding public was too apathetic to remove him. Harry also didn't want to make things difficult for Arthur Weasley.   
  
Ginny was under no such burdens. She knew that Draco was already working to remove Fudge; within six months Arthur Weasley would be the Minister of Magic, and a very driven Amos Diggory would be leading the revitalized Aurors. Draco would leave Quidditch and rejoin the ranks of the Aurors, and the battle against Voldemort would begin in earnest. But all that was in the future.   
  
Cornelius Fudge had left Ginny's porch shaking. He had not even been allowed to enter the house.   
  
She numbly accepted the condolences of countless people, dear friends and virtual strangers alike. She ignored the whispers. Yes, tragic, Harry Potter killed while trying to save a Muggle from a Muggle accident, who'd have thought it? Quite ironic, when you think about it. He certainly brought in far more than his share of Dark Wizards, yes indeed, but in the end Voldemort had escaped him.   
  
A week after the funeral, she had almost cried when the renewal for Harry's Quidditch Weekly magazine came by post. She managed to push the emotion down by simply paying the bill. Harry may be dead, but his magazine would keep coming, at least for another year. The memorial issue with him on the cover would be carefully packed away by Ginny for her children.   
  
Ron, uncharacteristically quiet, often sat for hours in silence with Ginny. Hermione and Molly Weasley often looked after the children. Sirius was three and __Elizabeth__ was one.   
  
One year old. Harry had lost his parents when he was one.   
  
A month after the funeral, Ginny was surprised when Colin Creevey had shown up on her doorstep. She wasn't quite sure why she invited him in.   
  
Harry had tolerated Colin, but never really felt anything for him, other than mild irritation occasionally tempered by amusement. Ginny knew him a bit better, and had wept when his brother Dennis had been slain by Death Eaters a few years ago. Still, Colin Creevey was not someone who Ginny considered close.   
  
He stammered through the usual condolences that Ginny had already heard countless times before. And then, he shocked her.   
  
"I was there, you know, that day."   
  
Ginny didn't answer. She started thinking of ways to gracefully get him out of her house.   
  
"I...I was there before the game. I was just freelancing, I wasn't on assignment. I thought I could get some good pictures, and Rebecca gave me a new spell to use that makes wizard photographs more like, well, Muggle movies. I really wanted to try it out."   
  
Ginny looked at Colin with horror. In the back of her numbed mind, she prayed that Colin wasn't about to say that he had photographed the plane crash.   
  
"I saw him when he picked you up before the game. It - it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I wish I could fly like that; I wish I could do something like that with Rebecca, but I'm just not that good on a broomstick."   
  
Ginny wondered, idly, who Rebecca was. Obviously, she must be his girlfriend, or wife, or something. Had she gone to Hogwarts? Ginny couldn't remember.   
  
"Anyhow, I - I took this. I hope it doesn't make you sad. I want you to have it."   
  
He laid the photograph down on the table in front of the couch that Ginny was sitting on.   
  
Ginny watched as Harry picked her up and flew around. She remembered every word, every gesture he had made. She felt the wind, and saw her husband flying with her, looking his most magnificent, totally and absolutely in love with her.   
  
Colin didn't speak. Ginny watched the photograph recycle, again, and again.   
  
Colin had captured the whole episode perfectly. Colin himself had obviously been on a broom of his own, for he had spun around to different angles to capture Harry and Ginny on Harry's Firebolt. The framing and composition was perfect. He had zoomed in when appropriate and cut to wide shots when capturing some of the more acrobatic moves Harry had performed. He had filmed everything from the moment Harry picked her up to when he put her down. The last shot was of Harry looking back at her, waving, a broad smile on his face.   
  
"I can keep this copy?"   
  
"That's not a copy. That's the original. There are no copies; I couldn't take the chance."   
  
Ginny took a moment to process that. "You're not going to publish this?"   
  
"No. I can't. That - that's your final moment with him. It's nobody else's business."   
  
Ginny looked at Colin as if seeing him for the first time. Colin could never be described as quiet, but Ginny saw, for the first time, that Colin had a quiet decency about him, hidden by his normal excited babbling. She now recognized that his enthusiastic manner, his simple joy at the most mundane things, was nothing more than the expression of a person who took pleasure out of every moment of life.   
  
Colin was born to a Muggle family, but Ginny now knew that the whole world had always been magical to him.   
  
"Harry...he never really talked to me much...but he saved Dennis that one time in my seventh year. I know they got Dennis in the end, but I had three more years with my brother than I wouldn't otherwise have had. And..." at this point, Colin blushed, "I met Rebecca because I was doing research on Harry for an article for the Prophet. I owe - we - the whole world - we all owed him so much...and you. You helped take down Lucius Malfoy, well, you bankrupted him at least. He gave the order for Dennis, you know. And you made Harry so happy, everyone could see it. I just wish I could do more for you."   
  
"Colin. This has just become my most treasured possession. I thank you, and someday my children will thank you. Harry...would be proud."   
  
Colin gave a weak smile. "Harry, proud? Of me? I wish I could be like him. I'm nothing like him. I'm just a photographer."   
  
Ginny didn't quite know how to answer that, so she just said what she thought.   
  
"And Harry was just a man, a man with a wife who loved him, and now thanks to you I have something very precious. Colin, do you know how rare it was for people to thank Harry for the things he's done? He didn't mind, but I would get so frustrated, people would want to know him, to talk to him, to be part of his life somehow, but they never talked about the sacrifices he made, or even just thanked him for all he did. He didn't need it, but he damned well deserved it. He never wanted to be an Auror, he just wanted to be a father to his children, and - and - now he can't do that any more - and it's so stupid - and it isn't right - and - I need him - I don't know what I'm going to do - I mean, I always knew this could happen, but that - that doesn't help, it doesn't help knowing, and he was so good, Colin, he was so very good and OH! COLIN! I WANT HIM BACK!"   
  
Ginny had steadily lost control as the words had started to pour out of her. She had known she wasn't making much sense, but she felt she had to keep talking, and she talked faster and faster. Her last words were nearly a shout, before she lost control entirely and could no longer speak.   
  
Colin held Ginny as she sobbed. He rocked her back and forth, and didn't try to tell her it was okay - he knew nothing was okay for her right now. He didn't know that Ginny had not cried once since Harry died, he didn't know that Ginny had been nothing more than a shell for the past month, but he knew that he had to let the pain and rage run its course. It was the least he could do for the broken woman in her arms.   
  
It went on for a long time. Ginny cried, and at one point gave a raw animalistic cry of pain, a wounded lion that lost her mate. At one point, she beat her fists ineffectually against Colin's small frame. Occasionally, she would babble a few meaningless sentences, and then start sobbing again. Colin was dimly aware that Hermione had come down, once, to check on Ginny, but had not come down again, even when Ginny cried out. He didn't know that Hermione had cast a charm on the upstairs room so that Ginny's children would not be awakened by the sound of their mother crying.   
  
Finally, the sobs dwindled off, and Colin realized that Ginny had fallen asleep. He slowly rolled her head off of him, and put her feet on the couch. He rummaged around and found a blanket that he draped over her.   
  
Colin looked around, baffled. He honestly had no idea what to do next. Should he go home? Would Ginny be hurt if she unburdened herself like that only to have him run off in the middle of the night? Or would it be presumptuous of him to stay the night in the house?   
  
Hermione came down the stairs, and looked at Ginny sleeping on the couch. She turned to Colin.   
  
"I don't know what you said, or did, but thank you. We haven't been able to get her to open up, at all, and she was getting more and more distant before tonight. I think she may be better now."   
  
Hermione and Colin talked for a while, before she offered to show him to a guest room to sleep. Colin declined, and instead sat in the armchair, which cooed softly in his ear, "So many visitors, lately, and all so tense. Let me help you sleep."   
  
Colin looked at Ginny, and his last thought before drifting off was that it was so wrong that he was here instead of Harry.   
  
_Two years later, Ginny fixed Draco and Ron with a look and spoke firmly.   
  
"Colin will do it. He's always been there when it counted."


	8. Muggle Dreams

Chapter Eight--Muggle Dreams   
  
Tonya Bellingham woke up, drenched with sweat.   
  
The same dream again.   
  
She looked around, confused. It took a moment for her to remember where she was.   
  
She was in her London flat, and her parents were dead. She had just relived their death for the tenth time in as many months.   
  
She closed her eyes, and tried to remember the details of her dream. The plane, streaking down. Her mother screaming at her father, who pushed the yoke of the Cessna forward, ignoring her mother's screams.   
  
The impact. The burn on her shoulder as the belt ripped through her clothes, roughly dragging across her skin. The sharp pain as she bit her tongue.   
  
Fire, everywhere. A black-haired man rushing into the flames, which didn't seem to harm him. She felt a tingle as the flame licked up her arm--funny, she thought being burned would hurt more.   
  
She could remember her arm wrenching in the dream as the man yanked her out of the pain. His piercing green eyes fixed on her for a moment, and she saw the fear there. Not fear for himself, but fear for her.   
  
"Stay here."   
  
He dove back into the flames. Strange. In the dream, she felt no heat from the inferno.   
  
She tried to keep her eyes on him, but it was hard. There was another flash of light, and another man appeared in the fire. Shouts in...Latin? That couldn't be right. He grabbed the man with green eyes, who struggled briefly before going limp.   
  
Then, heat. Waves of heat washing over her as a second explosion erupted.   
  
She couldn't see; even though her eyes were open, all she saw was white. Sounds came to her as if her ears were stuffed with cotton. Slowly, she started hearing more.   
  
Her vision returned. People all around her, dressed in strange robes. Was she dead? There were people flying around her, people appearing out of thin air--she must be either dead or mad.   
  
She tried to stand up, but didn't have the strength. She only managed to raise herself to her knees. She saw a woman with fire-red hair, holding the limp body of the man who saved her. The woman looked like her soul had been ripped from her body. 

_GRANGER! HE'S HERE! QUICKLY!_   
  
Another woman appeared. Eyes full of compassion, bushy hair flying everywhere. She heard a voice shouting.   
  
A man's face, pale, topped with the blondest hair she had ever seen, eyes boring into her.   
  
Madness.   
  
She knew. Her parents were gone. Burned.   
  
Her voice.  Scared, uncertain.   
  
"Who are you people? What's happening?"   
  
The bushy haired woman murmured to her.   
  
"There was an accident. Your plane crashed. You're going to be okay."   
  
"My parents...in the plane."   
  
The bushy haired woman didn't answer at first, but looked away. Tonya could see where tears had been running down her cheek.   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
The pale, blond man appeared again, spoke a few words, and waved a stick in the air.   
  
Tonya always woke up at this point.   
  
Usually, she didn't remember much of the dream.   
  
Tonight, she remembered everything.   
  
Every single detail.   
  
The strange thing was that the dream felt more real than what she knew had happened. Two years ago, the small Cessna she was flying in with her parents had crashed. Her father had somehow lost control. She was the only survivor.   
  
It was quite odd. She knew what had happened, but when she tried to remember specific moments, she drew a blank. She knew, objectively, that her father had lost control and that she had crawled out of the wreckage before it burst into flame.   
  
The strange thing was that she couldn't remember actually doing it.   
  
The dream with its bizarre images was so much more real. The details were so vivid.   
  
The frozen, blank look on her father's face, as he oh-so-deliberately pushed the yoke forward. That could not possibly be real, could it?   
  
The hand reaching out and pulling on the throttle, accelerating the plane even as the ground rushed up--surely, this was the stuff of nightmares, and nothing more.   
  
The final proof that the nightmare bore no relation to reality had to be the memory of her mother grabbing her own yoke and pulling back, only to have it turn into a hissing snake. Tonya didn't want to think about whatever warped part of her subconscious was putting that bizarre image into her head.   
  
She looked at the clock. Five in the morning. Lovely. She had a procedure scheduled for nine. It would demand concentration and focus; mucking about in a child's mouth always demanded care, but when the child was only five years old the challenges were doubled. Sometimes, Tonya questioned why she had chosen pediatric dentistry as a career--but she always remembered why when she fixed the smiles of children.   
  
Children's smiles. That reminded her; she had to travel to London tomorrow for the British Dental Association seminar on pediatric reconstructive surgery. She had nothing to wear. Somehow, she would have to drop off dry cleaning before going into work. Tonya did the best she could to push her recurring nightmares out of her head as she started her day, far earlier than she would have wished.   
  
She had no idea that she would soon meet people who would find her dreams very interesting indeed.


	9. Neville and the Order of the Ferret

Chapter Nine--Neville, and the Order of the Ferret

"How do I look? I haven't worn this in years and I had to let it out a bit. Does it still flow right?"

Ginny spun around, letting Draco and Ron appraise her robe. Hermione was working late and would not be able to attend tonight, which was a pity. She had given this robe to Ginny years ago as a Christmas present, after Ginny had remarked on it while shopping with Hermione.

"Ginny, please. You look splendid." Draco could not figure out why Ginny was nervous. Objectively, he knew that she had not lost some of the weight she gained during her last pregnancy. He knew it bothered her when she had to enchant a garment to be just a bit bigger. He just couldn't figure out where the added weight was--Draco, who could mentally undress and catalog a woman's every flaw in his mind in about three seconds, seemed to have a blind spot where Ginny was concerned. He tried not to dwell on it too often.

"Really?" Ginny's face brightened. Draco smiled. Ron frowned.

"Sometimes I almost wish for the days when Malfoy wasn't in the Ginny Fan Club." Ron's muttering was duly ignored by Ginny and Draco.

"Really. I think it is quite safe to say you will be the most gorgeous woman here tonight. Even taking into account the fact that the only other woman hardly qualifies as much competition, charming as she may be."

Oops. Draco realized instantly he had gone too far.

Too late.

Ginny turned on him in full fury. She used The Quiet Voice, which was more terrifying than we she shouted.

"Draco. I will say this once, and once only. If I hear one more negative word about Tabitha tonight, I will make very sure you know where the door is. There are lines that even you should be smart enough not to cross. Neville is my friend, and it's not his fault you can't get a woman even half as good as Tabitha. I'll give you a clue, though. Boorish comments like what you just said are why you are always waking up to different faces on the mornings when you aren't waking up alone. Now get out of my sight for awhile and let me cool down."

Draco flushed as anger, shame and sadness all coursed through him at once. Ginny just stared at him, watching his face change. She always hated this; when a door opened and she could see the Old Draco, who was always there, usually hidden but occasionally rearing its sneering head. He closed his eyes in an attempt to regain control.

"Ginny. Please. Forgive me. It just slipped out. I can't help the way I think sometimes, although shouldn't I get some points for trying?"

Ginny softened, slightly.

"You do get points, Draco, that's why you're still in my house. Look, you don't have to get out of my sight. Just watch it, please. I'm nervous enough about tonight. Now let's wait in the living room for them to get here. Mom already took Sirius and Elizabeth for the night so we won't be disturbed."

Draco nodded. It did not befit a Malfoy to admit to such a trivial emotion as nervousness, but if truth be told he felt a twinge of unreality. The plan would begin to move forward tonight, and he would be forced to spend more time with Ginny than ever before. He was both excited and terrified by the prospect--not to mention the small matter that if he succeeded, Voldemort would be dead by the time Draco's plans ran their course.

_I will NOT become interested in the widow of Harry Potter. I will NOT._

_You're already interested, you fool. The question is, will you act on it?_

_No. Never._

Draco turned off the internal dialog in his head, as he and Ginny sat in the living room. Ron went off to inspect the wards around the house; even though they had been designed to last for many years, if not centuries, Ron still made a point of checking them whenever there was an increased risk from Dark Forces.

Ginny and Draco talked idly, both of them casting occasional glances at the clock, awaiting the arrival of the Longbottoms.

Neville and Tabitha Longbottom showed up promptly at six, accompanied by two bodyguards as usual. One of Neville's bodyguards reached out to ring the doorbell.

"Longbottom party is at the door."

The disembodied voice of the Door-Watcher made Ginny look up, surprised. Neville used to always be late for everything; but then, many things had changed about Neville since Hogwarts.

Ginny leapt up from the couch like a startled cat and went to open the door. Her eyes went to Neville first--he had a silly grin on his face.

"Hi Ginny. It's nice of you to have the five of us over."

"The five?" The perplexed look on Ginny's face broke into delight as she finally saw the huge bulge in Tabitha's robes.

"How far along are you?"

"Eight months."

The Weasley Temper made its appearance.

"NEVILLE! I do trust you have a good explanation for this, although I can't imagine what it could be."

"Well, Ginny, you see, when a man has certain feelings towards a woman..."

"NEVILLE!" Both Tabitha and Ginny shouted the name at the same time.

Neville''s face turned serious. He knew that Ginny would be very irritated indeed at not having been informed of the pregnancy.

"The usual, I'm afraid. The security chaps feel it's best to keep it secret."

"I dare say it's quite annoying to have to cast a glamour to hide my belly every time I leave the house." Tabitha's disfigured face twisted into a smile.

Ginny looked at Neville, who had developed a bashful grin on his face.

"And why, pray tell, are you grinning like you accomplished some heroic task, Neville? Typical man." Ginny's insulted tone conflicted with the smile on her face. _Good Lord, EVERYONE is getting pregnant this year!_

Ginny could not believe how much Neville had changed. In the past fifteen years, Neville had definitely transformed from the shy, awkward, pudgy boy that Ginny had first met when she was eleven.

Neville was now a shy, awkward, devastatingly handsome man. Ever since his fifth year, when Harry had started ostensibly started teaching Neville Defense Against the Dark Arts, Neville had begun developing into a more confident--although still shy--young man. Harry didn't quite realize until later that he wasn't really teaching Neville Defense--he was teaching Neville to be confidence. The assurance Neville gained only reinforced his natural bravery, which gave him an allure that certainly complimented his incredible good looks.

In Neville's sixth year, Ginny, Hermione, Luna Lovegood and Madame Pomfrey had all worked together to lift a bungled memory charm from Neville's mind--the legacy of the attack on his parents when he was an infant, and the misguided efforts of his well-meaning family to protect him.

Since that charm was lifted, Neville had shown an almost superhuman grasp of magical theory and application methods. He was still, to this day, sometimes a bit inept at actually performing magic--once he learned a spell properly, he could usually reproduce it over and over again without fail. However, it was difficult and slow for him to actually master new spells--or, rather, spells that others were trying to teach him. Harry had shown a gift in this area, but natural teachers like Harry were rare indeed.

Spells that Neville created himself, however, were a different story. In what many saw as the height of irony, Neville, who had so much trouble learning spells that were taught to him, had an unparalleled ability to create new spells himself. Nevile was generally considered to be the best, most insightful Spellsearcher the Ministry had seen in three hundred years.

As the Master Spellsearcher for the Ministry, Neville was charged with overseeing the creation of new spells for the Ministry. In a more peaceful time, Ginny knew that Neville would be focused on creating new medical spells--indeed, Neville had first gained fame as an apprentice Spellsearcher by crafting the spell that cured his parents' Crucio-induced insanity.

Fame. Neville had become famous, like so many others in his year at Hogwarts. And, with fame, Neville became a target. As the Master Spellsearcher, Neville was now accompanied--always--by no fewer than two Aurors of the Ministry's Protection Detail. Only the Minister of Magic himself had more full-time dedicated protection.

Neville needed it. Ginny knew of at least seven attempts in the past six years to kill or capture him. She was sure there had been more that she didn't know about. Ginny shuddered to remember the day that Harry had come home, ashen, after rescuing Neville from some diabolical Russian Wizard Mafia plot to kidnap him. Voldemort wasn't the only threat in the wizarding world--indeed, he had been almost quiet for the past five years.

Ginny remembered Harry coming home, slumping in a chair, and muttering, "I don't know how the hell he holds up through these attacks. They never end!"

_Harry was troubled. Ginny knew better than to interrupt; she knew she had to let Harry ramble._

_"He's good at defending himself. I mean, he's not helpless like that one twit who we have standing orders to transfigure into a rock in the event of an attack so he doesn't do more damage to himself than his attackers. But still. One day, they'll get the drop on him. And that damned memory charm has left him more vulnerable to Imperius than I've ever seen anyone test before."_

_"Yet he keeps plowing on. He won't back down--which is good for us, we certainly need him desperately--but he refuses to even consider doing anything that would make him less of a target. I never thought I'd say this, but Neville Longbottom has to be one of the bravest people I've ever met. I guess I should have learned that back when Sirius died, but he still shocks me."_

Ginny's mind turned back to the present, as she studied Neville's features. Ever since he had shed his baby fat and started looking more like something out of a Muggle movie poster, women had been throwing themselves at him. Ginny had even caught Hermione giving him an appraising look up and down on one or two occasions--an act that Ginny had also found herself committing in a weak moment or two.

Not that it mattered. Although she knew, in a remote, clinically detached way, that Neville had always been unusually unsettled around her, and still was utterly unable to refuse any request she made, she knew that Neville was absolutely centered on Tabitha. Neville, who could have had practically any single witch he desired, and quite a few of the married ones, had broken many a feminine heart when he married Tabitha.

Tabitha and Neville complemented each other perfectly. Everyone knew--for it could not be hidden--that Tabitha's face had been hideously disfigured as a child in the same Death Eater attack that had slain her parents.

Very few people knew that Tabitha was a witch of uncommon power. A lifetime of cruel childhood taunts had toughened her up mentally enough to be a first reserve of the Dark Force Defense League. Although the Aurors were usually the first group that Wizards thought of when it came to fighting evil wizards, the League had its own role--provide a first response for defense of the innocent, no matter the cost. The unpaid, all-volunteer League often stormed into situations where they had no idea what the threat was.

Neville had met Tabitha while he was attempting to create a spell that could be used to see inside a structure from the outside. Neville, who had always been able to look past the external and into the heart of a person, had been instantly smitten with Tabitha. Aware that years of whispered comments and barely-hidden horrified looks had forced Tabitha to form a thick emotional shell, Neville had plotted his courtship of Tabitha with all the forethought and cunning that was displayed by the methodical way he could create new spells out of thin air.

Ginny led the group into the dining room. The three house elves that served the Potter family bustled about, making sure that the dinner was running smoothly. One of the Aurors of Neville's detail went into the kitchen to cast poison detection spells; Ginny was too familiar with the protocols and the reasons behind them to be offended.

Satisfied that Potter House was indeed safe, the two Aurors of Neville's protective detail withdrew to another room to leave the group with their privacy; a rare event indeed for Neville. 

An hour later, Ron was regaling the group with the story of the Order of the Ferret. Everyone present was a graduate of Hogwarts, but not all of them knew all of the details of what later generations would refer to as the Potter / Malfoy war.

"Oh, and then Draco somehow managed to circumvent Hermione's protection charms on Harry's food. I still don't know how you actually slipped the potion into his pumpkin juice."

"A simple matter of telling a Hogwarts house elf that I was acting on Dumbledore's orders, I'm afraid. Nothing too dramatic." Draco waved a hand as he spoke, dismissing his masterstroke as just mere child's play.

"Ah, yes. And that owl landed with its note." Ron made a dirty face at Malfoy, as he continued, "That note scared the living hell out of us."

_You have until nine-fifteen to hide yourself. After that, the first person you lay eyes upon shall suffer a fate worse than death. The effect of the spell will wear off after four days--for once in your life, Potter, you won't be able to be the center of attention--for once in your life, you must isolate yourself and not seek the adoration of others. Let's see if you really have enough character to do what is right. Remember, Potter, a fate worse than death. And don't think about coming to find me, Potter, there's not enough time. You have been warned._

After describing the contents of the note, Ron went on.

"Well, Harry just turned pale, and jumped up and ran out of the hall like a bat out of hell. This was what, seventh year, and he was going hot and heavy with my sister."

Ginny spoke up to add her memory.

"Yes, and I tried to follow him and he hexed me so that I couldn't walk. I didn't realize what was going on until Ron showed me the note."

Draco now picked up the story. "My plan worked better than I could imagine. Harry ran up to the abandoned bathroom where Moaning Myrtle lived. Er, resided, or haunted, that is."

Draco smiled. Tabitha made a little gesture with her hand, as if saying _Well? Continue!_

"My definition of a fate worse than death apparently conflicted with Harry's. It was a love potion I gave him, causing him to fall in love with the first person he saw. Hopelessly, madly, uncontrollably in love."

"And the first person he saw when the potion kicked in was Moaning Myrtle."

Tabitha burst out laughing. Draco beamed.  "Point for Malfoy."

Ginny shook her head. "Point for Malfoy, indeed. I lost my boyfriend for FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS, Malfoy! FOUR DAYS! We couldn't get him out of the damned bathroom!"

Ron laughed. "You know, even then, a part of me marveled at the brilliance of Malfoy for stationing Crabbe and Goyle outside the bathroom selling tickets to other students to spend ten minutes watching Harry proclaim his undying love for Myrtle."

"Yes, why didn't McGonagall or Dumbledore stop you? It's bad enough that Harry had to miss four days of classes, but I never could figure out why they let you make money off of humiliating him." Ginny's voice had no anger in it anymore; she was honestly curious.

"McGonagall tried to stop me. Thankfully, Professor Snape stepped in and pointed out that since he was covering the Defense Against Dark Arts classes that month, all matters regarding unusual hexes, jinxes, and the like came under his purview. And, he felt that allowing other students to witness Harry's plight was a good warning of what could happen if a student did not take his defense seriously. At least, I believe that was the story he used. Pure tripe, of course, but that never bothered Snape when it came time to humiliate you Gryffindors."

Draco shrugged.

"Anyhow, McGonagall appealed to Dumbledore. Much to my amazement, the old man thought it was quite funny indeed.

Ginny remembered back to seventh year.

_"Come now, Minerva, laughter is good for the soul, and it has been quiet this year._ _After all, Mr. Potter has had the upper hand over Mr. Malfoy so many times, perhaps his victory will allow Draco to not feel quite so slighted." Dumbledore's words had been relayed to her by Dobby, who had overheard the conversation, and it had taken Luna Lovegood, Neville and Ron together to keep her from going after the Headmaster to try to hex him for his wretched sense of humor._

_On the first day, Myrtle had been overjoyed by the attention, and attempted to dance around the bathroom with Harry. Dancing is quite difficult when your body parts go through your partner, but she managed, nonetheless._

_On the second day, Harry had left the bathroom, briefly, to get a violin. He rushed back to the bathroom as quickly as he could, ignoring the laughs of the students in the hall. He then begun serenading Myrtle with love songs of his own composition. Myrtle didn't think that "even though you may be a ghost, I will always love you the most" quite flowed properly, but she did not wish to offend her new young lover. The fact that the words were very badly off-key, even to a ghost's disembodied ears, also bothered her a bit._

_On the third day, Harry had accidentally turned Myrtle a bright shade of neon purple while trying to modify an exorcism spell "so as to be finally able to remove your glasses and gaze into your beautiful eyes." Purple was SO not Myrtle's color--she might be dead, but she did have her pride. Also, Hermione and Ginny had attempted a joint finite incantatum spell to try to reverse the effects of Malfoy's potion, only to be chased from the bathroom by a raving Harry._

_"I'm sorry, Ginny, but everything pales before Myrtle."_

_Ginny resisted the urge to point out that Myrtle, being a ghost, was pretty damned pale herself and resigned herself to wait out the spell._

_On the fourth day, Myrtle had left her bathroom and was searching the halls for Dumbledore, begging him to cast an exorcism spell and send her to the afterlife. She had had enough of Harry's affections. Sir Nicolas was attempting to defend Myrtle's honor, and the Bloody Baron was actually seen smiling. The normally smiling Fat Friar of Hufflepuff showed a stern face when asked to comment on the rumor that Harry had sought him out in an attempt to have him perform a wedding ceremony. Finally, the spell wore off and on the morning of the fifth day, an exhausted Harry was prodded awake by a grinning Ginny._

_"So, are you tired of fifty-year-old dead teenagers yet?"_

_Harry buried his face in the pillow._

_"Are you mad at me?" Harry's voice was muffled._

_"Why would I be mad at you? Well, actually, you never wrote ME a love song. Then again, after listening to you sing, perhaps you never wrote me a song because you actually do want to keep me for awhile."_

_The pillow flew up and hit Ginny in the face._

_Thankfully, Harry did not have to endure the taunts of his classmates for long, for the next day Dumbledore sent him on a four-week internship at Ollivander's_ _Fine Wands, ostensibly to learn the basics of wand-making. Harry really thought Dumbledore was sending him away to let the fuss over his fling with Myrtle die down. Four days with Myrtle and four weeks with Mr. Ollivander later, Harry returned to Hogwarts, with a new appreciation of the difficulty of wand-making, the foolishness of a Potter trying to sing, and above all else, the unbearable feeling he felt when he was away from Ginny Weasley. He prolonged that absence, slightly, by making a slight detour to the Burrow on the way back to Hogwarts. He had a question that he had to pose to a very shocked Arthur Weasley._

_He was back for a day when seventeen-year-old Harry Potter proposed, formally, to sixteen-year-old Virginia Weasley._

Ginny smiled. She realized she had a new dig for Draco.

"Draco, Draco, every time you tried to make my husband-to-be look bad, he always got the best of it in the end. You tried to taunt him with Neville's Remembrall and he wound up on the Quidditch team, you disguised yourself as a Dementor, only to force him to cast his first true Patronus, and you made him fall in love with Myrtle, only to make him feel compelled to propose to me."

Draco looked shocked. "Excuse me, Ginny? How am I responsible for him proposing to you?"

"He missed me so much after spending that internship at Ollivander's that he proposed the day after he got back."

"That smooth dog. I never knew when he actually popped the question. I know you two hid that you were engaged for at least a year." Ron's voice was full of admiration.

"Dad knew. He didn't tell mom because he was afraid she would let it slip. We knew we wouldn't get married until I'd been out of Hogwarts for at least two years."

Neville looked at Ginny. "I knew, too. I took one look at that ring and knew that he had done it. I never bought that 'it's just a promise ring' rubbish you two tried to pawn off on everyone."

Tabitha took all this in. "I wish I had been there that year."

"Oh, it was great. _The Quibbler_ ran a huge story on it: **The Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Died--Potter's Posthumous Passion.** Luna tried to talk her father out of running the story, but it was just too juicy. And Malfoy arranged to have glossy pictures run with the story--I believe the biggest shot was one of Harry stripped to the waist, wearing leather pants, gyrating on a toilet seat. Quite horrifying, actually. I always suspected Draco was behind those leather pants turning up in the bathroom during that escapade." Ginny was quite matter-of-fact about her late husband's humiliation.

She gave a wan smile.  "Funny thing is, that escapade had one other good benefit.  Harry and Myrtle actually became friends.  Once you get used to her, she's not so bad.  Harry would make it a point, even after he graduated, to always stop in and say hi to Myrtle whenever had to visit Hogwarts on business."

Draco felt it was time to steer the group to the purpose of the evening.

"Much as I enjoy this stroll down memory lane, I must point out that we do have business to discuss."

"Indeed. I understand you need a spell." Neville's tone was businesslike.

"Quite. Not just any spell. We need enough theoretical work to make people believe that we are working on a Sorcerer's Stone."

Neville greeted Draco's declaration with a long silence. Draco could almost see the wheels spinning in his head.

"Make people believe you are working on a Stone? I think I can do that, but I want to make it clear that I will not be a party to the actual creation of a real Stone."

"We understand that."

"What is your plan?"

"Short version, convince the public that Ginny and I are in love, and that I'm dying, and that the industrious Mrs. Potter is willing to move heaven and earth to save me by creating our stone so that we can be together forever. Then we just wait for Tom Riddle to come for the Stone and we bag him."

"Brilliant. Except for the part of making people believe Ginny's in love with you."

Ginny stared blankly at Neville. "Why would it be so hard for people to believe that I could fall in love with Draco?"

Draco concentrated as hard as he could to keep a neutral expression on his face. He could not let anyone see the effect Ginny's comment had on him.

Neville stammered. "I don't know. Just never thought of it before, I guess."

Tabitha interrupted. "Excuse me, but who is Tom Riddle?"

Ron replied in a low tone. "Most people know him as Lord Voldemort."

Neville's mind was racing again. "We'll have to research everything, and I do mean everything, that is known about Nicolas Flamel. Is he even still alive? I understand he destroyed the Stone my first year at school, but how much life remained to him afterward? Would he even help us? And we'll need Hermione. And you, of course, Ginny. Even then, I don't know. I hear even_ Merlin_ failed in his attempt to create a stone--we know there was at least one other stone created before Flamel's--but we don't know who made it, or when. This is going to make the creation of _Liltego _look like first-year charms."

Ginny shuddered. A quite competent Spellsearcher in her own right--although nowhere near the level of Neville--she had worked part time after leaving the Aurors with Neville, developing the _Liltego_ shielding spell. Named partially for Lily Potter, the spell was the first--and only--spell capable of shielding the caster from the effects of the _Avada Kedavra _killing curse. The spell could also be used to shield others. Developing it and testing it, however, had been an unspeakably horrible experience, replete with casting Unforgivables over and over again. Surely the creation of a Stone would not involve such close interaction with Dark Magic. For this reason, Ginny silently disagreed with Neville's assessment--_nothing_ could be worse than the creation of _Liltego_, wonderful as that spell might be.

"So, you'll help us?"

"Ginny, have I ever said no to you?"

Ginny beamed as Tabitha rolled her eyes.

"There's a price for my husband's help." Tabitha was smiling.

Draco looked at her, blankly.

"A price?"

"When this is over, I expect you to tell Neville and me the full story behind the Order of the Ferret. It sounds fascinating."

Draco appeared to wrestle with this concept for a moment.

"Agreed." And with that, the five friends talked into the night.


	10. Dinner With Draco

Chapter Ten--Dinner With Draco   
  
"Well. This is it."   
  
Ginny looked herself up and down in the mirror.   
  
"You're going to make some man very happy tonight." The mirror was not known for its tact. _This is NOT a real date; this is a tactical maneuver. Of course, how do you explain that to a bloody talking mirror?_ Ginny tried not to be annoyed at the mirror and focused on the task at hand.   
  
She turned to the side.   
  
The light brown robe didn't seem to highlight any areas that she didn't want to be highlighted.   
  
She faced herself again.   
  
_Honestly, Ginny, what are you worried about?   
  
_"Draco Malfoy is at the door." The announcement of the Door-Watcher jolted Ginny out of her self-examination and sent her trotting down the stairs.   
  
Molly Weasley beamed at Ginny as she entered the foyer.   
  
"You look lovely, dear."   
  
"Thanks, Mom."   
  
"Draco has turned into a fine young man, hasn't he?"   
  
"Stuff it, mom, this is business."   
  
Ginny opened the door to see Draco, wearing simple but elegant black robes.   
  
"What, no flowers?"   
  
Draco looked stricken for a second, before Ginny rescued him.   
  
"I'm teasing, you dolt, you look great, let's get going."   
  
Draco quickly appraised Ginny, and then he fixed her with a shrewd look.   
  
"Potter. I realize this is purely business, and that this is all for show, but you look absolutely ravishing tonight. Would you mind terribly much if I told you that, business or not, I intend to fully enjoy our time together tonight?"   
  
Ginny smiled at him, "You better enjoy yourself, Draco Malfoy. I think we both deserve a night of fun, and I would be quite disappointed if I've lost my ability to enchant a man, even if there's zero chance of it going anywhere."   
  
"Duly noted, Ginny. Consider me enchanted by your charm and beauty yet resolved to be pure in thought and deed."   
  
"Pure in thought? That might be a trifle difficult for you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll settle for pure in deed."   
  
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, Mrs. Potter. Shall we go?"   
  
Ginny called out goodbye to her mother, before closing the door. Confident that Sirius and Elizabeth were in good hands, she and Draco Apparated to the Apparation chamber of the Crystal Chalice.   
  
The chamber was thankfully empty, so Draco and Ginny could have a moment to prepare before formally entering the restaurant.   
  
Draco and Ginny looked at each other, and Ginny nodded once. Draco made a hook with his arm and his hip and Ginny wordlessly slipped her hand through his arm. They walked together into the restaurant.   
  
The maitre d' snapped to attention upon seeing Draco's blond hair. He was too much a professional to show surprise when he saw that Draco's escort was none other than the Minister's daughter, the widow of Harry Potter.   
  
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. I am terribly sorry, we were not informed you would be joining us this evening. It will take a few moments to clear a private table for you."   
  
"There will be no need for that, Frederick. Mrs. Potter and I have been cooped up in stuffy houses for far too long, lately. I think it would be wonderful to dine out where we can actually see some other people for a change. Besides, we don't have a reservation and I wouldn't want to impose."   
  
Once again, the maitre d' managed to successfully hide his shock at hearing a Malfoy use words like "I wouldn't want to impose."   
  
"Of course, sir. There is a perfect table in the middle of the room that is clear."   
  
This was all part of Draco's plan; it wouldn't do to be hidden away in a private room when the whole point of the evening was to be seen by as many people as possible. Draco was determined to get some tongues wagging.   
  
Draco and Ginny realized that they had guessed correctly as they walked through the room and heard the normal low din of restaurant patrons give way to astonished murmuring. It took a lot to faze the wealthy clientele that frequented the Crystal Chalice, but it appeared the sight of the Widow Potter out on the town with the infamous Draco Malfoy had managed to shake more than one person in the crowded restaurant.   
  
Ginny's eyes sparkled as she gazed at Malfoy across the table. Farce or not, it was _fun_ to be out again, being treated like a woman, doted upon by the very attentive staff and her handsome dinner companion.   
  
Ginny laughed.   
  
She turned her head every now and then, letting her hair work its own magic on all who were watching her.   
  
She even batted her eyes.   
  
_I may be out of practice, but damn it, I swear I will show Malfoy that I still know how to flirt.   
_  
At one point, Draco even reached across the table and took her hand, during a more serious story.   
  
And, of course, the food was wonderful.   
  
_This is a splendid meal. And I'm really enjoying myself. Damn. Oh well, back to work.   
_  
Ginny locked eyes with Draco, and looked down at her left wrist as she stroked her index finger across it.   
  
_Time for Act 2, Draco._   
  
Draco reached up to brush an errant hair away from his face, and quickly allowed two fingers to briefly grasp his earlobe as his hand fell back down.   
  
_Message received, Ginny, here we go._   
  
Draco coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. No one saw him slip a small pill into his mouth.   
  
He started to speak again.   
  
"And, then, Ron came bursting through the door, and he was holding a bra in one hand, and in the oth-" Draco stopped in mid-word, and a look of consternation crossed his face.   
  
"Draco?" Ginny reached out to grab his hand.   
  
Draco gave a shudder, and he turned quite pale. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.   
  
"Ginny, I think I should..."   
  
Draco's voice trailed off, as his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped out of his chair onto the floor. A loud CRASH shattered the peace of the restaurant as he pulled his place setting down with him. Every head turned toward the table.   
  
"DRACO!"   
  
Ginny bolted out of her chair and drew her wand, waving it over the table.   
  
_"Acclaro Acontio!"_   
  
A gasp issued from one or two of the more knowledgeable patrons. One simply did not expect someone to use a spell to detect poison in the Crystal Chalice. Even those who did not know what spell Ginny had used suddenly remembered that Draco was an Auror, and that Ginny had once been one too. No one needed reminding where Ginny and Draco ranked on Voldemor's "People I Want To Kill List". Fear showed on several faces.   
  
A green glow hovered over the table and the spilled food on the floor, showing that the meal had not been tampered with.   
  
Ginny knelt over Draco, muttering diagnostic spells and cursing under her breath.   
  
"Mrs. Potter. Shall I summon aid from St. Mungo's? "   
  
"No, he's coming to. I'm a field mediwitch; he's stable but weak."   
  
Just then, Draco's eyes fluttered open.   
  
"What happened?"   
  
"You collapsed. I'm not quite sure why. We need to get you back home, darling."   
  
Ginny's words almost seemed to echo in the silent restaurant.   
  
Just then, two Aurors rushed into the restaurant.   
  
"Where did you come from?" Draco's voice was weak.   
  
"Be still. I triggered your aid bracelet; you're too weak to Apparate so I need them to use the ambulance to get you home. I don't want to jostle you too much by taking you another way."   
  
"Thanks...hurts...when I move."   
  
"Be still, Draco, we'll get you home and I'll take care of you." She stroked his hair as two medi-wizards joined the Aurors and levitated Draco onto a stretcher, and led him out of the restaurant with Ginny walking at his side.   
  
Fifteen minutes later, Draco was in Ginny's living room, having been levitated there by two very concerned medi-wizards who were then sent politely but firmly on their way. As soon as the door closed Draco bounded upright.   
  
"How did I do?"   
  
"Splendid. I almost bought it myself, and I knew about it! You were wonderful, Draco!"   
  
Ginny suddenly brought her finger up to her lips and pushed Draco down onto the couch.   
  
"Be quiet. Someone's coming, and they don't walk like mom. You're supposed to be sick."   
  
It was then that Ron and Hermione came into the room, with another woman.   
  
"What are you two doing here?" Ginny was confused; Ron and Hermione were supposed to stay away tonight while Draco "recovered" at her house.   
  
Hermione looked at Ginny with a troubled look on her face.   
  
"Ginny...I'd like you to meet Tonya Bellingham. She has some things to say that I think you need to listen to."


	11. Landscaping the Hard Way

Chapter Eleven--Landscaping the Hard Way 

It had taken a half hour for Tonya to tell her story, and answer a few short questions.

Silence reigned in Ginny Potter's living room.

No one spoke.

Finally, Tonya found her voice, hesitantly.

"This...makes sense to you. You're not surprised, are you? And you don't think I'm crazy."

Tonya's last statement was just that--a statement. There was no questioning tone.

Draco's eyes had gone slate gray. 

Ginny sat with her head slightly bowed, eyes tightly shut. Tonya thought that if someone touched the redheaded woman she would explode, like a coiled spring.

A single tear ran down Hermione's cheek, and her husband had a placid, expressionless mask on his face that was surely hiding an unspeakable rage – although his face was calm, his hands were balled into fists.

_Harry would be so proud. I've finally learned how to totally hide my emotions so that no one can tell what I'm thinking. Look at me, Ron Weasley, the silent redheaded rock. Nothing can upset me._

"Will someone say something? Please, I'm so confused!"

Tonya's request went unanswered.

"Excuse me." Ginny opened her eyes and pulled her wand out of her robes, and she briskly walked to the door.

A moment later, Tonya heard the sounds of breaking wood, followed by a hideous screeching and other sounds of destruction. The other three people in the room did not even acknowledge the horrible sounds that were coming from outside the house.

Hermione looked at Tonya.

"Tonya...I think there's some things I need to explain to you. You certainly have the right to know what has happened.." Hermione looked at Ron. Ron's nod in reply was almost imperceptible.

Draco stood up and went outside to find Ginny. He was dimly aware of Tonya sitting down and looking at Hermione, who was handing a wide-eyed Tonya a wizarding photograph of Harry.

"Ginny."

Draco spoke softly, trying to ignore the torn earth and shattered boulders of the stone fence that had once surrounded a section of land near the Potter house. It was very obvious that Ginny had been throwing around spells of sheer primal force, giving vent to her emotions by mutilating the impassive, uncaring earth. A part of Draco shuddered to think about the consequences if the angry witch ever unleashed that much raw energy on a human being--and another part of Draco thought there were some people who deserved to experience that energy firsthand.

Draco stepped over the thick stump of a tree that had most likely stood for a hundred years, resisting the worst nature could throw at it. The tree had not been able to withstand Ginny, however. Even by the moonlight, the devastation was impressive. Draco idly wondered what it would look like in the morning.

"Ginny."

This time, although she continued to stare off into the horizon, she answered Draco, in a fashion.

"You know, I actually thought we might escape it all. I thought we could just ignore that damned prophecy. I think a part of me thought we had beat it, that maybe if Harry left him alone then he would leave us alone. I never thought about that, intellectually, before, but I think that's how Harry and I both felt. We were so stupid."

Ginny snorted, and a new bitter tone entered her voice.

"What the HELL were we thinking? I knew that it had to end this way, either Harry or him. I've known it since I was eleven. And yet I ENCOURAGED him to go off and play Quidditch, I told him he could leave all this bullshit behind. And he did. And he let his guard down. Not totally, he didn't walk down Diagon Alley stark naked with no wand, he still sat with his back to the wall every time we went to a restaurant, but he did ratchet it down a notch. He was no longer an active Auror, his life didn't depend every day on being paranoid. At least we didn't think it depended on it. Boy, were we wrong or what?"

Draco didn't say anything.

"If he hadn't had left his guard down, would he be alive today? 'Neither shall live while the other yet lives'--we were so happy, it sounded like utter tripe. Why should we listen to some stupid prophecy made by some weird old bat before we were born? Why should we be bound by that? Do you know, Draco, do you?"

Draco didn't answer, and Ginny didn't seem to mind. A firm tone entered her voice.

"Well, now we know. The bastard won; he took Harry away from me and I didn't even know it. I knew Harry might die on duty, always knew it, but I somehow convinced myself that it wouldn't really happen--after all, he was no longer an Auror, right?"

Draco finally spoke. "He fooled us all, Ginny, he fooled us all. Now I just want to know why he's been so quiet the past few years--that's one of the reasons it fooled us. But why has he been quiet since Harry died? Why not gloat?"

Ginny didn't respond to what Draco said, but merely continued gazing into space. It was several minutes before she spoke.

"My son was born in July."

"Huh?"

"Sirius. He was born at the end of July."

Draco was worried. Why was Ginny suddenly obsessing over her son's birthday?

Ginny turned to Draco, and smiled. Her next words chilled him to the core.

"He was born...as the seventh month died."

Shit.

It all came together, in Draco's head.

The prophecy could--most likely was--still valid. Sirius Potter fit the terms of the prophecy as well as Harry did, although he had not been "marked as an equal" yet.

_Kill the spare._

Surely, Voldemort would be able to make the same connection.

What would one more murder--even of a child--be to Tom Riddle?

Ginny's left hand shot out, and grabbed Draco's wrist, even as her right have cupped the side of his face and drew him close. She lowered her voice and almost hissed out her words at Draco.

"Promise me, Draco, promise me, if anything happens to me, he won't get my baby. I'm going to take him down, if it's possible at all I will take him down, but swear to me, Draco, that you and Ron will NOT let that bastard take my Sirius! PROMISE ME!"

Draco eyes bored into Ginny.

"I promise, Ginny, I will die before I let anything happen to Sirius. So will Ron."

Draco knew, even as he spoke, that he was not merely uttering hyperbole. He valued his life very highly--Draco was supremely selfish. But, Draco viewed the world in a logical, orderly fashion, assigning priorities and rankings to everything and everyone he dealt with. Most things and people ranked far below him; a few things--Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Ginny's children--ranked above him. He would not want to be in a world without those people who had saved him. Draco, who knew he would never want to die--even if he lived to be two hundred years old--felt that dying to protect Sirius would be a worthy and justified sacrifice.

_Oh Jennifer, you taught me how to put others above myself. You showed me how it's done. I'm still not very good at it, but if the time comes, I'll try to be worthy finally of your sacrifice._

Almost as if she could hear Draco's silent plea to his dead lover, Ginny spoke softly to Draco.

"Do you ever think what your life would be like if you and Jennifer had had children?"

"Constantly. The thought horrifies me."

In another context, another time, a casual listener would have thought that Draco was making a rather tasteless joke. Ginny, however, could see the sadness and fear on Draco's face, and just looked at him until he was ready to continue.

"My greatest shame is that a part of me secretly needed Jennifer to die. I didn't want her to die; I loved her as much as it was possible for me to love anyone at that time. I wish I could bring her back. If I could die right now, and have her come back, I would. But a part of me will always be afraid of the what-if. If she didn't die."

Ginny motioned for Draco to sit on the log she had uprooted from the ground earlier. She sat down with him, and loosely took his hand in hers.

"If she hadn't died, if she hadn't had been murdered, she might have stayed with me. Or she might have left. Either way, I would probably be a Death Eater by now. I would still always be cold inside. I'd be a monster. I'd be my father. If she had stayed with me, and we'd had children, what would they have been like? What would I have turned them into?"

Draco laughed.

"See my problem? If Jennifer hadn't sacrificed herself for me, I'd be a murdering bastard whose life wasn't worth living. If we had never gone down to that dungeon, I'd be a monster today. Worse than a monster. I'm a better wizard than my father, you know. And he's good. Powerful. Much more powerful than most...and I am more powerful than he is, when you get down to it. Can you imagine what I'd be today if we hadn't gone down to that dungeon together?"

"I don't like to think about what you were, Draco, I just know what you are today. You're a fine, fine man--and that roots of that were always within you."

Draco gave a half laugh. "I'm not a fine man. Ron is a fine man. Harry was a fine man. I'm better than most. But I'm still an insufferable prick. But I've got enough humanity in me now to be very troubled sometimes by thoughts of what might have been."

"Do you ever dream of a world where you could have become what you are without Jennifer being murdered?" Ginny's bluntness didn't seem to faze Draco in the slightest.

"A world where I actually am not a monster, yet Jennifer is alive and well and we're together? A world where we have two perfect children, who bear a remarkable resemblance to Sirius and Elizabeth, except their hair is not as messy and their names are Ginny and Harry in honor of my dear friends? A world where I can teach them to play Quidditch, and Jennifer has a studio in Malfoy Manor where clay is smeared everywhere, and hunks of metal waiting to be formed into art, and I hover proudly at her side every time she has a new exhibit at a gallery? Yeah, I guess you can say I dream of that world sometimes. Just a little bit."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you making you think about that."

"Don't be. I look at it this way. I've only been alive, truly alive, for the past six years. Even my pathetic fantasy life, my dreams of what could have been, are infinitely better than the reality of what my life would have been if you and Harry hadn't let me into your home that night."

"It all started because you had the courage to come in the first place, Draco. You made the choice to come, Draco."

"I borrowed that courage from Jennifer."

"No, it was always in you. She just showed you how to find it."

Draco looked up at the moon. It was almost full; tomorrow, he knew, Remus Lupin would be relying on the Wolfsbane Potion to prevent from becoming an animal. Lucky Remus. No potion could have saved Draco from following in his father's footsteps and becoming an animal--no potion, save the blood of Jennifer DePorter.

"We live in the world we live in, Draco. All we can do is try to make it better."

Draco turned towards Ginny. "The world would be better if more people were like you, Gin."

For the first time since meeting Tonya Bellingham, Ginny smiled. "True. But then, where would you be? A world full of people who aren't afraid to tell the great Draco Malfoy off? I daresay you'd be miserable in a world of Ginny Potters, Draco."

"Quite right. But at least they'd be nice to look at." Draco matched her grin with an arched eyebrow.

"You flattering Slytherin devil. You just say that because my father is the Minister of Magic."

"Ah yes, your father. Remind me to curse him sometime for not having more daughters."

"I always knew you had a thing for Weasleys." Ginny's eyes sparkled, and Draco was suddenly aware that she had been holding his hand ever since they had sat on the log. He had been dimly aware of it earlier, while they were talking. He had clung tightly to her hand earlier, like a lifeline tenuously keeping him bound to sanity as he relived times of madness. Now, her hand was light, relaxed, and Draco could almost feel an electric tingle as her fingers lightly brushed his hand.

_Now is not the time to say anything. Not tonight, of all nights. It's just been too damned much to absorb._

"Come on, let's go inside." Draco stood up, and moved to pull his hand away from Ginny. He was shocked when she tightened her grip on him and looked straight up into his eyes.

"You're my dearest friend, Draco. We're going to get through this, aren't we?"

Draco felt the growing tension in his body evaporate. He was no longer feeling the dreaded beginnings of arousal; at this moment, he was totally, absolutely, platonically in love with Ginny Potter. The fact that Ginny was an attractive woman was immaterial to the swelling of affection that Draco felt.

"Yeah. We will. Let's go see how they're doing with our Muggle friend."

Still gripping Draco's hand firmly, Ginny walked with him towards the house.


	12. Sending a Message

**Chapter Twelve - Sending a Message**

Sirius Potter was irritated.

"Elizabeth! Your foot is slipping out!"

"No it's not! You're not nice!"

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"No!"

Sirius sighed. It wasn't easy trying to help your three-year-old sister stay hidden under an invisibility cloak. He, of course, was five years old - almost six - thank you very much, and was quite good at hiding under his dad's old invisibility cloak Sirius hoped that his sister would hurry up and get big like he was so that she wouldn't be so annoying any more.

"Elizabeth, you need to be quiet!"

"I AM QUIET!"

Sirius showed wisdom beyond his years and chose not to argue with his sister. Arguing, of course, was a distraction from the Mission.

_I am Sirius Potter, Auror Supreme, and I am so good that no one will stop me from sending my secret message. Not even my little annoying Auror-in-Training._

Tiptoeing up the stairs, Sirius and his sister had finally reached the top level of the Potter House.

The owlery.

"Look at all the birds!"

Elizabeth cried out in glee and tried to grab the nearest owl, but she was rewarded with a disdainful look from both the bird and her brother as the owl took flight. Six other owls stared curiously at the scraps of parchment in the children's hands.

Sirius looked at the six owls, who were beginning to strut around, eager for the chance to deliver a letter. The Potter children had never sent a letter on their own before, and the owls all wanted the honor of being the first owl used by one of the children.

"Come on now, who wants to take a letter to Dad?"

All of a sudden, a loud HOOT came from the rafters. A great fluttering of wings was heard, and the six owls scattered as a huge white owl came swooping down from the rafters. The owl was obviously quite old, and there were large patches of discoloration all over its once-white body.

"Hedwig!"

Sirius looked in awe as the owl landed on a perch right in front of him, at eye level. The owl looked Sirius in the eye, and held out its foot.

Elizabeth looked scared.

"Mommy never uses that one anymore. We're gonna be in trouble."

Sirius looked again at the bird, whose eyes seemed to be angry at his hesitation. Hedwig shook his ancient foot impatiently at Sirius.

"You want to do this, don't you, Hedwig?"

A loud HOOT answered Sirius, accompanied by another shake of an avian foot.

Sirius thought about it. He knew that Hedwig had been his dad's first owl - she was very, very old indeed for an owl. He knew that Hedwig had occupied a place of honor in the owlery since his Dad had bought the Potter House, even though she hadn't been used to deliver a letter since before Sirius was born.

Sirius remembered back two and a half years ago. He realized that he was Elizabeth's age when his Dad had introduced him to Hedwig.

_"Dad, I don't want you to go again!"_

_Sirius Potter stamped his feet, as Harry looked troubled. It wasn't fair! Daddy was going Somewhere, again, and he wouldn't even be able to get letters!_

_"I wish I could stay, but Daddy has to work. I'll be back in a month - I need you to look after Mommy for me, ok? Can you do that for me? It's really important, Sirius, Mommy's going to need your help."_

_Sirius looked serious. "I'm scared."_

_Harry looked down at his son. "There's nothing to be scared of. If you need me, really, really need me, you can send me a special owl."_

_Sirius looked distrustful. He knew, even though he was only three, that Daddy never answered owls when he was on one of his Special Trips._

_"Owls never find you. You won't come."_

_Harry took his son by the hand._

_"Come on, there's someone you need to meet."_

_Sirius let his father lead him up to the owlery._

_Several owls stared, expectantly, at Harry and Sirius. Most of them were Potter Owls, but there were also a few Ministry owls and even a Hogwarts owl all taking up residence in the spacious Potter owlery._

_Harry ignored the owls, and held out his arm._

_"Hedwig!"_

_A huge, ragged-looking white owl flapped its wings a few times before leaving the ground, and lit on Harry's arm. The owl gazed at him with wide eyes before almost nuzzling Harry with her face._

_"Hey girl. Haven't seen you for a while."_

_Hedwig gave a soft hoot._

_She held out her foot, plaintively._

_"No, girl, I don't have a letter for you today. Hedwig, this is my son, Sirius. Sirius, this is Hedwig. She's a very special owl."_

_Sirius looked up at the owl, who seemed to be appraising him with a critical eye before jumping from Harry's arm to Sirius's shoulder._

_Hedwig gave another soft hoot._

_"I think she likes you. Now, Sirius, this is important. Hedwig is very, very old. She doesn't carry letters anymore. She's earned her rest, earned it quite well indeed."_

_A flash of pique crossed Harry's face - Sirius had no way of knowing that Harry was recollecting his fifth year, when Hedwig had been assaulted while carrying a letter from Sirius Black._

_"But Hedwig is the best owl there ever was. The best." Harry's voice turned a bit hoarse, and his pride in his bird was obvious, even to a three-year-old. If Dad said it, it must be true - this was the best owl, ever._

_At this, Hedwig swiveled her head around, imperiously glaring at the other, younger owls as if daring them to challenge Harry's assessment. The younger owls all looked properly meek and submissive. Satisfied, Hedwig resumed studying Sirius._

_"Hedwig was given to me when I was eleven. A very great man named Rubeus Hagrid gave him to me. She was my first owl, ever."_

_Sirius interrupted. "Rubellius Hagis? That's a funny name."_

_Harry smiled at Sirius's butchery of the late Hogwarts Groundskeeper's name._

_"I'll tell you about Hagrid some other time. But the important thing is that if there was ever an emergency, and I do mean an emergency, no matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, Hedwig will always, always be able to find me. She's that special. But you can only use her if there is no other choice, and Mommy says it's ok, do you understand?"_

_Sirius nodded, a serious look on his face._

Two and a half years after meeting Hedwig, Sirius stared at the old owl.

"Elizabeth. If any owl can get a letter to Daddy in heaven, this bird can."

Elizabeth studied Hedwig. Ignoring the patches of missing feathers, disregarding the faded gray areas on her white body, Elizabeth pronounced her verdict.

"Pretty bird."

Hedwig gave a soft hoot.

Sirius started affixing both letters to Hedwig's foot. Hedwig sat at attention, an old warhorse steeling herself for one last battle.

Just then, Ginny came up the steps.

"What are you two doing up here? What are you doing with Hedwig? You know she's much too old to be delivering post!"

Sirius stood his ground before his mother.

"We're sending a letter to Daddy. Hedwig's a special bird; and Daddy said that Hedwig will always be able to find him. Hedwig should be able to fly to heaven."

Ginny's face softened.

"Baby, Hedwig's too old. Maybe we should send another owl."

A loud SCREECH rent the air. Ginny looked at Hedwig in shock.

_That bird is glaring at me as if it understood me. I've never seen an animal look so...angry._

"Hedwig. You're a good bird, but aren't you tired?"

Hedwig's eyes continued to glare at Ginny. She did not dignify Ginny's comment with so much as a hoot.

Ginny was torn. Any other owl would no doubt circle around for awhile, trying to find Harry, before coming back late at night. She would be able to get the letters when that happened and her children would not be hurt.

Hedwig, however, was just too damned old. As far as Ginny knew, Hedwig hadn't even left the owlery for seven years, other than to occasionally swoop down on unsuspecting mice in the field. Ginny couldn't recall the last time Hedwig delivered post.

She didn't want to let Hedwig go. In her heart, she knew if the bird flew out of the owlery, it would never come back. It would fly, looking for Harry until she dropped.

Memories of summers at the Burrow - a teenager, in love with Harry - waiting for the majestic sweep of white wings bringing Harry's latest words tormented Ginny. She was far more troubled by the thought of Hedwig dying then she wanted to admit. Hedwig was a part of her past - one of her living links to happier times, and she did her best to keep Hedwig healthy and happy as Harry would have wanted. She didn't know how long owls - even magical owls - were supposed to live, but she knew that Hedwig should have died of old age five or ten years ago, even with the magic that undoubtedly made her different from common owls.

The owl continued to look at her. Its angry glare seemed to be replaced with a pleading, questioning look.

_Please let me carry this post. It's what I'm meant to do. I'm very old, but I can still do my job. If it comes to it, let me die on my own terms._

A single tear ran down Ginny's cheek. She spoke, almost in a whisper.

"You're the best bird there ever was, Hedwig. Will you get this post to Harry?"

_Hoot!_

Ginny turned to her children.

"Sirius...send her off, she'll do the job."

Sirius's eyes were wide, as he stretched out his arm. Hedwig gave Ginny a playful nip with her beak. The old owl then walked up Sirius' arm and allowed Sirius to tighten the strap holding the letters to her feet. Elizabeth leaned over and gave Hedwig a kiss.

Sirius spoke with a firm tone of command that sounded odd coming from his five (almost six) year-old voice.

"Hedwig, you good old girl, take these letters to Daddy!"

Hedwig looked straight ahead and leapt up into the air. Ginny could see bits of feathers and dust fly off of the owl's massive wings as she extended them to their limit. One swoop, two swoops, and the bird was truly airborne.

Ginny and her children ran to the large opening in the owlery, and watched Hedwig spiral up. The other owls clustered around, looking up at the great white bird.

Hedwig gained altitude. Already, Ginny realized the owl was too high for her to see the signs of Hedwig's age. The bird continued in a lazy spiral, as if parading her colors before an admiring audience. Ginny could almost fool herself into thinking she was seventeen again, and Harry's magnificent bird was winging his words of endearment to her with all the seriousness of a diplomatic mission. It didn't matter; whether delivering teenage love letters or top-secret communications from the Order of the Phoenix, Hedwig had always taken her responsibilities very seriously. The most mundane communications were imbued with greater importance just because Hedwig was carrying them.

Now, carrying the large, scribbled words of her son and pictures drawn by her daughter, Ginny watched as Hedwig circled the house three times, before dipping slightly in an arc. For a moment, Ginny thought that Hedwig was going to plummet to the ground before she realized that she was diving, picking up speed, and then arching up and coasting to even greater heights. Ginny watched as the great bird flew off into the north, still gaining altitude even as it dwindled to a speck before finally vanishing from sight.

"Daddy's gonna get post?" Elizabeth's halting question drew Ginny to her.

"Yes, baby, Daddy's going to get post. He'll love your picture very much."

Ginny herded her children towards the stairs, making sure that they stayed in front of her so that they could not see her eyes.


	13. Legal Affairs

**Chapter Thirteen - Legal Affairs**

Edwin DePorter sat back and wondered about the events of the day.

As a wizard Advocate - roughly akin to a Muggle attorney - he often had interesting days. This day was more interesting than most.

He suspected that his day was going to be bad when Draco Malfoy walked into his office smiling. Draco was unusually chipper, which meant that he was up to something. Edwin was one of a select few who were privy to the fact that Harry Potter's death had been something other than a tragic accident - the month that had passed since that revelation by the Muggle woman, Tonya, had seen Draco investigating various aspects of Harry's death. He hadn't been smiling much lately.

Edwin didn't know what to think. He knew, instinctively, that things were not as they seemed. Draco and Ginny were up to something. He had heard the stories about Draco's public collapse at the Crystal Chalice, but had not asked any questions.

Draco treated Edwin to lunch - a very public, very boisterous lunch. Draco was rather animated, laughing somewhat louder than usual and generally making sure he was the center of attention.

Edwin learned why when they went back to his office.

"I do hope you don't mind the little show I put on." Draco was still grinning.

"Care to enlighten me as to why?" Edwin figured this was a good one.

"Short version, for business reasons we need people to know that I am using you as my solicitor."

"Indeed. And we haven't even discussed my retainer. What would you like me to do?"

"Represent any nosy Death Eaters who are likely to get off?"

Edwin paused. Some would think that a former Auror would be an unlikely Advocate for accused Death Eaters - but Edwin was of the belief that everyone deserved a defense. The Ministry of Magic Legal Defense Office was a relatively new creation, but Edwin took its purpose to heart. He would represent anyone who couldn't find their own Advocate - once. If someone was foolish enough to be brought up on charges again, Edwin would tell them to get lost. Edwin had his limits. Besides, representing destitute Dark Wizards took time away from his more lucrative civil practice.

He certainly did not enjoy defending those who were accused of crimes involving Dark Magic. He knew that many, if not most of them were guilty. However, whenever he began to doubt the hours he spend defending accused Death Eaters and other rabble, he would stroll out into the lobby of Legal Affairs to see the statue of Sirius Black that greeted visitors. The simple legend NEVER AGAIN at the base of the statue said it all. No more would people be thrown into prison for life, without trial. The fact that the phrase had been borrowed from the motto of those who worked to remember the Muggle Holocaust did not trouble Edwin in the least. It was a good phrase to describe injustices.

"I expect that William Zabini will get off with a simple fine for Muggle Baiting. Why?"

"We need to plant something that he will sort of find and hopefully relay back to his master. A few documents, nothing more. Think you could leave them on top of your desk next time you meet with him and then leave him alone?"

Edwin paused. "I may have an ethical problem with that if you're hoping to pin something on my client. He may be guilty as hell but it wouldn't quite be cricket for me to help set him up while still representing him."

Draco waved his hand. "Nothing of the sort. We just want to use him as a conduit to feed our friend Tom false intelligence."

"Consider it done. Now, tell me, have you found out anything more about Harry's murder?"

Draco turned guarded. "I do hope this is a secure room."

Edwin resisted the urge to bridle at the implicit rebuke about discussing secret matters in an insecure setting. "Of course. I am an Advocate, after all. A Silencing Charm is in effect whenever I'm in here. That figurine - " Edwin gestured at a small, ugly statue of a goblin on a bookcase, "- has eyes that turn green when the room is secure, and red when it is not."

Draco relaxed. "I'm sorry. Habit, you know. Well, I have a new respect for Muggle technology."

Edwin arched an eyebrow as Draco continued.

"I hired a Muggle aeroplane accident investigator - someone from the Muggle government, actually - to examine the plane wreckage. Tonya's story checks out. The control thing, the er, yak?"

"Yoke."

"Ah, yes, yoke was in such a position to indicate that the pilot indeed willfully - or at least as willfully as you get under Imperius - dove the craft into the ground. Something about the way the metal bent proves it. However, that's not the interesting news."

Edwin nodded at Draco. "Go on."

"My Muggle expert apparently is trained in something called forensics. He was able to determine that someone touched the records that were used to plan the aeroplane trip, and that same someone touched parts of the aeroplane itself - and Harry's wand. Some sort of Muggle magic. I'm not quite sure how it works, but my man says he's certain."

"He knows about our world?"

"Yes. The Minister appears to have a Muggle/Wizard Liaison team. About a dozen Muggle experts in various fields. They come in quite useful sometimes." Draco didn't add that he was taking lessons in hand-to-hand combat from the Muggle who was on loan from the British SAS. His inability to save his lover - and Edwin's sister - from two thugs when he was deprived of his wand still was a source of great shame to him.

"Fascinating. Arthur Weasley never ceases to amaze me." Edwin's respect for the Minister was long-standing.

"There's one more thing you will want to know." Draco's voice was very serious indeed.

"Yes?"

"Tonya, the Muggle woman. Her last name is Bellingham."

Edwin's tone was glacial when he spoke.

"I don't believe in coincidences."

Draco's matched Edwin's tone. "Nor do I. It appears that our friend Rupert Bellingham has moved up in the world. Tonya identified his picture. As far as we've been able to determine, he was instrumental in the planning of the crash. He picked Tonya's family by looking over a list of Muggle pilots who had notified the airport they were flying that day. Apparently, according to one of our sources, he was quite offended by the fact that a bunch of Muggles shared his surname and was quite glad to have the opportunity to wipe out the whole family. Tonya identified him as the wizard who was struggling with Harry in the wreckage. He must have moved up considerably in Voldemort's ranks to have been trusted with such a crucial mission."

Edwin absorbed all this. "How did she identify him?"

"Ron thought it was a bit odd that she had the same last name as the Death Eater who killed Jennifer. He brought her down to the Ministry to look at intelligence photographs."

Edwin grunted. "That must have gone over well with the security desk. A Muggle in the Ministry of Magic."

Draco smiled. "Ron was bloody pissed. They wouldn't let him in with her. He finally invoked his name and told them that he was bringing her in whether or not they approved and that if they had a problem with it to take it up with his father. I've never seen Ron throw his name around like that. He's quite upset about the situation."

"As am I, Draco. If you find Bellingham, Perkins won't be far behind. What will you do with them?"

Bellingham.  Perkins.  There would be no forgiveness for the murderers of Jennifer DePorter.

Draco fixed Edwin with a blank stare. "I have no intention of ever bringing them in."

Edwin pondered that. "Nor do I. You will summon me if you need to?"

"Of course. Their death warrant is signed; you are welcome to help me deliver it."

"What's she like?"

"Tonya?"

"Yes."

"Quite charming, actually. Handling learning about our world much better than I would have expected. Rather witty, when you're not discussing the murder of her parents. I've never spent so much time with a Muggle woman before. Does this thing with her hips in bed that makes me think I've been missing something by not spending more time with Muggle women. They seem to be less inhibited."

Edwin's eyes widened at Draco's bluntness.

"That's all secret, of course. As far as the world is concerned, I'm madly in love with Ginny Potter."

Edwin shook his head. "I won't even pretend to understand that. Are you?"

Draco turned somber. "I don't know. I might be. We're playing a part for this damned plan, and I find it's just too easy for me. Acting in public like I love her is the easiest, most natural thing in the world for me. And sometimes when I'm with Tonya I even feel guilty. I don't know how Ginny feels. She does seem a bit amused when I run off with Tonya. I can't be seen in public with Tonya; it would blow the story. Bloody hell, my life is a mess, isn't it?"

Edwin chucked. "You'll work it out, I'm sure. When will you have the documents for me?"

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Splendid. I have a conference with Zabini tomorrow afternoon. Anything else I should know?"

"Not really, his cousin, Blaise, is quite attractive. She's on our side; runs some import / export business and occasionally smuggles stuff to various places as a favor for some of her favorite Aurors."

"Thank you, Draco, I will keep that incredibly interesting and absolutely irrelevant information in mind. Patricia says hi, by the way. Oh, and if you ever look at my wife sideways, I will flay you alive, you know."

Draco shrugged. "Might be worth it. I can't figure out how an old man like you wound up with such a smashing wife."

"Draco, I am getting a splitting headache. Kindly get out of my office before I vomit, or kill you, or both."

Draco held out his hand. "I'll send the documents over by secure owl tomorrow morning. And I'll call you if I find out anything more about our little friends."

Edwin started to shake Draco's hand, and then pulled him close in a rough hug. "Take care of yourself, Draco, it's a dangerous game you're playing."

Draco muttered, "What's with this hugging? You call yourself English?"

Edwin laughed. "My family's French. Get out of here."

Draco left the office, and Edwin was left to wonder about ways to make Bellingham's death look like self-defense should he ever come across him. Knowing that Bellingham had killed Harry Potter, or at least assisted in it, made Edwin realize that it most likely would be self-defense if it ever came down to it. That would be just fine.


	14. Drunk and Disorderly

**Chapter Fourteen - Drunk and Disorderly**

The Poisoned Quill wasn't the bottom of the barrel as far as dive bars were considered, but it was certainly close.

A few things about the Quill made it stand out from other low-rent bars.

First, of course, it was a wizarding bar. Wizarding bars were always a bit more interesting than Muggle bars.

Some bars had dogs as mascots. Other bars had parrots, and one bar in the East End had a large boa. The Quill had a dragon as a mascot - a baby dragon, to be sure, that had been enchanted so that it would never grow larger than a meter or so, but a dragon nonetheless. Thankfully, the rare Muggle who wondered into the Poisoned Quill was usually so intoxicated that seeing baby flying dragons was almost tame.

Most importantly, the Poisoned Quill was a bar frequented by wizard reporters. Journalists, story-writers, photographers and other chroniclers of truths and un-truths all chose the Quill as place to unwind, drink up, and occasionally mate. They also used the Quill to snoop on each other. This choice of clientele meant the Quill did at least boost a higher intelligence level among its patrons - the gossip of the Quill was usually quite interesting, indeed, as the lines between media, politics and entertainment all merged at the Quill. 

Colin Creevey walked into the Quill just after six.

A few voices called out in greeting as he made his way to the bar. The mousy journalist was rather popular among his peers - not for having an exclusive line into the Potter family, but rather for having the decency not to gloat about it. Some reporters admired him, and some reporters were envious of him, but all respected Colin's honesty. Of course, that didn't stop his peers from teasing him unmercifully about all sorts of other shortcomings, real and imagined.

A couple of regulars noted that Colin was lacking his usual wide-eyed innocent look. His eyes darted around the bar full of suspicion and anger.

He finally took a seat next to Fiery Frank of the _Quibbler_, who had his head resting on the bar, buried in his arms_._ Fiery Frank had received his nickname from an unfortunate incident during an interview involving Charlie Weasley, some nasty (and flammable) cologne, and one post-pubescent, aroused dragon.

Frank spoke without looking up. "Who sat next to me?"

"It's Colin, Frank. Do you have a problem with that?" Colin didn't even acknowledge the bartender putting a drink in front of him.

Frank didn't move his head. "Ruddy lousy day. Even sodding Colin Creevey is being a sodding hardass. Shit."

Colin gave a grim smile. "Yeah. Me, the hardass. What a joke."

Frank's voice was only slight slurred. "Sodding Luna is riding my ass over this stupid Malfoy story."

Colin's voice turned even more bitter. "What Malfoy story?"

"Ruddy Draco Malfoy collapsed in a restaurant about a month or two ago when he was having dinner with Ginny Bloody Potter. Word on the street is that he might have Kyrene's Syndrome. He's been in some sodding strange places and acting weird, even for a bloody Malfoy. Freak. Luna won't let me run it, says she needs to talk with the Beloved Widow Potter herself first. I asked her if I could shop the article around since I'm not on contract, but she has first rights, and she paid me off to keep the story but won't run it. It's a bloody good story, Colin, I don't mind saying I'm proud of it and it's been a while since I've been proud of much. So, Lovegood's paying me to sit on a story that could maybe win me a Golden Owl and there's not a ruddy thing I can do about it. Shit."

Colin ordered another drink. His voice was low. "Frank, I could tell you things about that bastard Malfoy that would turn your hair white."

"Might be an improvement. I don't think I have much hair left. Say, what's this now, Colin? What do you know about Malfoy."

"Later. I'm still sober. Bastard."

Fiery Frank actually looked up at that. "What's with you, Colin? You're the only one in this bar who's never called me a bastard before and now even you're on my ass. What did I do to you?"

Colin met Frank's gaze. "I wasn't referring to you. I was thinking of Draco Malfoy, everybody's favorite prettyboy wanna-be Death Eater turned Auror who can't keep it in his pants."

"What's the matter? Did he put the moves on Rebecca or something?"

Colin shook his head. "No, not Rebecca. I don't want to talk about it."

Fiery Frank was unusually silent for awhile, occasionally looking at Colin with an appraising eye as Colin downed drink after drink.

Two hours later, Colin was talking loudly. There were several other ears besides Frank's that were listening to his tirade.

"I don't know HOW it happened - I mean, I love Rebecca, I really do, I never thought I'd fall for Ginny. I was just her friend, you know, I had never even really thought of her like that before, and I was in her class at school."

"I mean, yeah, she's hot and everything, but I always thought she was out of my league. What would Ginny Weasley, or Potter, or whatever the hell she's going to be next -probably Malfoy - want with me?"

Frank's voice was unusually low and respectful. His tone was no longer slurred, and the slang and profanity that usually marked his words was absent. "Colin, what happened with you and Ginny?"

Colin ignored Frank's question. "DAMN Malfoy. Damn him! He may be rich and good looking, and I know he's a more powerful wizard than I am, but he's DYING! He's a walking dead man! Why doesn't he have the decency to just leave Ginny alone? Why is he putting her through that again? She's already buried one husband, why does he keep pushing himself on her? And those poor kids are too young to realize how selfish he is. They actually like him. What's it going to do to them when he dies?"

Frank breathed a sigh of relief. _Confirmation._ "So, it's true? He's got Kyrene's?"

Colin snorted. "Oh yeah. I'd say he's got six months left before he goes to the hell he so richly deserves."

"That soon? Do you know what stage he's in?"

"He's already having difficulty controlling his magic. I watched him try to summon a drink and the glass exploded. He's dangerous. And the Ministry is still letting him work as an Auror! Of course, who wants to screw with a Malfoy, much less a Malfoy who is banging the Minister's daughter? BASTARD!"

Frank let out a low whistle. Kyrene's Syndrome was a degenerative magical disease that caused a wizard's magic to gradually disrupt his own tissues. The first stages were marked with exhaustion and fatigue, followed by muscle spasms and a growing inability to maintain coordination. The third stage was marked by erratic fluctuations in spell behavior; a wizard with Kyrene's often had difficulty focusing magic. Finally, the disease caused hardening of bodily organs. Parts of a person's body would gradually dry out and solidify. Occasionally, the fluctuating magic would actually Transfigure human tissue at the molecular level into some sort of useless paste, or worse, cancerous cells. The afflicted wizard usually died of massive systemic failure, although some died more quickly or went mad when the disease affected the brain.

"I really thought I had a chance with Ginny. Malfoy can't even get it up half the time, you know. The Kyrene's is really making a mess out of him." Colin smiled. This little embellishment was not part of the plan, but Colin couldn't resist the dig at Malfoy.

_Hey, if I'm going to go through with this farce, I might as well have some fun with it._

"I don't know what type of hold he has on her. I don't know what they talk about. I even tried to check to see if she was under some form of Imperius or something, and I couldn't detect anything. Of course, that doesn't really mean anything, I'm not that good at that sort of stuff."

Frank nodded, sympathetically. He didn't say what was on his mind. _Colin, Colin, you fool. Draco Malfoy doesn't need Imperius to seduce a woman. Even if what you say is true and he's not functioning quite right, a mousy little thing like yourself would never have a chance once Malfoy turned on the charm on whoever he picked as his next victim. All that money..._

It didn't quite occur to Frank that Ginny Potter had no need for the Malfoy money - the Potter estate was roughly equal to the Malfoy holdings. People always had an angle, in Frank's experience.

Frank had learned what he wanted to know, but he wanted some dirt, too. One never knew when it would come in handy.

"So, Colin, did anything actually happen with you and the Potter woman?" Frank was acutely aware that the bar was unusually quiet, waiting for the answer. Colin, however, was quite oblivious.

"Why do you think I'm so miserable?" Colin actually managed to blush. _Damn, I really should go into acting, I can't believe I'm getting away with this._

"I...well, I...yeah. Nothing much, I was just over there working on the biography of her husband, you know, just research, and we started talking, like we always do, and next thing you know we were on the couch and things were happening."

"What sort of things?" Frank did his best to suppress his lecherous grin. He didn't quite succeed. 

"You know, well, we didn't get very far."

"Did you shag her?"

"NO! I mean, it was leading to that, but then she started crying. I felt horrible. And then she started going on about Draco and how she couldn't hurt him and all sorts of utter bullshit. As if I wanted to hurt Rebecca. I mean, no one had to know. As if he wasn't out probably trying to put the moves on someone else that night. Then she got weird and started talking about his disease and how things would be better once Draco was 'better'. I don't get it. You don't get over Kyrene's. You just die. End of story. I can't tell if she's living in a dream world or not."

"That's weird." Frank smiled. _So, the Potter widow is not only a bit of a tart, but may very well be losing her grip on reality if she thinks that her little lover is going to bounce back from Kyrene's. Too bad Luna will NEVER let me print it. Perhaps the Prophet?_

Colin was still babbling.

"I tried to tell her that she had to be strong, that Draco was going to die, and that she owed it to her kids to prepare herself and them for the inevitable. She got furious. She said that Draco was not going to die, and that Hermione and Neville were working to save him. I know there's no cure for Kyrene's, but she seemed absolutely confident that Draco was going to live."

Frank absorbed this. "Neville? LONGBOTTOM? The Ministry Spellsearcher?"

"Yeah, they're old friends. He even took her to a dance back in our Hogwarts days. And you know who Hermione is?"

"Bushy hair, muggle-born, brilliant, married to one of the Minister's sons? Wait..Ron, right? Draco's partner. Holy shit."

Frank was ecstatic. He didn't know how much of this he'd ever be able to use, but it was sure interesting.

"They think they can cure Kyrene's? I don't know, that's a tall order."

"I guess so. Ginny kept muttering all sorts of weird stuff. I think she's starting to lose it a bit."

"Did she say anything specific?"

"No, I think they're working on a potion of some sort, though. She said something like that once the elixir was finished, she would be with Draco forever. Elixir! She actually called it that. As if whatever they're coming up with is somehow more special than a run-of-the-mill potion. I tried to talk to her but she just got angrier and angrier and threw me out. That group is brilliant, but trying to cure Kyrene's? I think she's going to fail. And Draco is going to let it happen - what the hell, he'll be dead, he won't care about how much this is going to hurt her."

Just then, the Quill's resident dragon swooped down and attempted to extract some of Colin's hair for a nest. Colin gave a shout and fell down off of his stool.

"Sir, please don't alarm the dragon." The bartender's rebuke made Colin look up from the floor.

"Bloody beast's a menace. I'm going home."

Frank helped Colin up and steered him to the door.

"You aren't in any condition to Apparate."

"Yeah, I'll just catch the Knight Bus. Good night, Frank."

Frank actually felt a touch of pity for young Creevey. He was learning the hard way that the world is a selfish, uncaring place.

He had no way of knowing that even as Colin shambled out of the bar, he was bursting with pride. He was sure he had done it. The seeds were planted; surely word of the encounter in the bar would get back to You-Know-Who eventually. It had actually gone easier than expected; the hard part had been convincing Rebecca that the whole charade was necessary. She had not been amused when Colin told her that part of the plan included spreading the word that Colin was attempting an affair with Ginny Potter. Finally, Rebecca had seen the humor in the situation and agreed to suffer in silence.

Colin thrust out his arm and waited for the Knight Bus to take him home.


	15. Sagesse de la Lune

**Chapter Fifteen - Sagesse de la Lune**

Ginny was walking down Diagon Alley when the owl swooped down on her. She withdrew her wand and muttered a quick spell to make sure that things were as they appeared. A pinkish glow suffused the owl, assuring Ginny that there was no attempt at deception - it wouldn't do if the parchment tied to the owl's leg was some sort of Portkey or something.

_I need to see you. Can you come by at one? I'm in my office._

_-Luna_

Ginny crumbled up the parchment in her hand. She was dreading this. Playing her little game of deception was all very fun as far as the public was concerned, but Ginny was dreading facing Luna. She did not want to have to lie to her friend.

_War really sucks. Will there ever be a day when we can just be unguarded and honest again?_

An hour later, Ginny walked into the Diagon Alley offices of the _Quibbler._ An uncomfortable silence, followed by a low murmuring, followed her as she calmly walked through the crowded newsroom to Luna's office. The stench of owl droppings, ink and unbathed reporters filled the air.

A short, strange creature that Ginny couldn't identify met her at the door. It looked like a cross between a goblin and a house elf, and had a chipped, bent horn protruding from its head. Its eyes were very wide.

"You are being Virginia Potter?" The strange goblin-elf or whatever it was handed Ginny a glass of water.

"Yes, I have an appointment with Luna."

"Very bad, very sad. Miss Luna is being very, very sad. You will be making her happy again, right?" The creature looked up at Ginny with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Uh, right, I will try. Do you know why she's sad?"

"Very sad, very sad. Gets mad whenever someone mentions you."

_Uh oh._

Ginny was ushered into Luna's office. Luna was sitting behind her desk, and she focused her wide eyes on Ginny. Ginny was very conscious of the door being closed behind her.

Luna suddenly bolted up out of her chair and cast a silencing charm on the room. She then darted around the desk and gave Ginny a hug. After a moment, she held Ginny at the shoulders, and looked at Ginny, a single tear running down her face.

Ginny felt her resolve weakening. No. She would not tell Luna the truth.

_I will keep my silence. But someday, I swear, I will make it up to you, Luna._

"Hi Luna. I've missed you."

Luna gave Ginny a weak smile and walked back down to her chair and sat down.

"Ginny Potter. I'm in big trouble."

"What's wrong, Luna?"

"There's...a lot of stories going around about you and Draco. I don't know what's going on. I won't let anyone print them, until I hear it from you."

"Luna, you don't have to worry about me. You can print whatever you want."

"You don't mind? Some of the stories are quite odd."

Ginny blinked, wondering exactly what qualified as odd in Luna Lovegood's world.

Ginny shook her head.

"Luna, you do whatever you need to do. It won't affect our friendship, if that's what you're thinking."

Luna beamed.

"That's good to know. Since all the stories started coming out about you and Draco, our circulation is down about seven percent. The _Prophet_ has been really hammering us because we haven't printed anything. And my reporters are very angry. I'll tell them they can run the stories. Oh, did Draco take you to South America?"

"Uh, no."

"Good. I'll tell them to kill that story. We had a source who said that Draco and you were running off to Brazil to become Quodpot players."

Ginny laughed. "Quodpot? No way. I'm a Quidditch girl."

Luna suddenly looked crestfallen again.

"It's true, you're with Draco?"

Ginny just looked at Luna and gave her a very weak smile indeed.

_God forgive me for not denying it. I HATE lying to my friends._

"Oh. Ok. Ginny, you're my friend, right?"

"Of course, Luna."

"You're absolutely sure this is what you want?"

Ginny took a breath and said, "I'm very happy indeed, Luna."

"Oh. Ok. I needed to talk to you about Harry. You see, I love him."

Ginny sat bolt upright, suddenly looking at Luna with new eyes. The dirty blonde hair was slightly curly. Luna's skin was flawless, and Ginny knew that she was hiding a pretty good body somewhere under those robes. Luna's eyes were some of the most expressive Ginny had ever seen, able to shift from vague dreaminess to sharp, alert intelligence in a heartbeat.

More importantly, Harry treated Luna differently than anyone else. He was unusually defensive of the petite Ravenclaw; Ginny recalled how he had challenged a hapless seventh-year Ravenclaw boy to a dual when Harry was in his sixth year. The seventh-year had dated Luna briefly only as part of a joke to subject Luna to further ridicule.

Harry had left the older boy flopping on the ground as a large codfish. He had then walked away from the gasping fish, which had continued to spasm for almost a minute before turning into a skunk. Finally, later that evening, in the privacy of his dorm, the skunk turned back into a human.

Ginny had always thought it was a bit of overkill on Harry's part. She knew, however, that Harry trusted Luna implicitly, and also knew that Harry occasionally talked with Luna about personal concerns that he didn't feel comfortable sharing with Hermione or Ginny.

Yes, it was true. With Luna's simple, blunt statement, Ginny had to regard Luna as a genuine threat, to be taken quite seriously indeed. Friend or not, there was no way Luna's statement could be allowed to stand. This was war.

And then, Ginny remembered that Harry had been dead for over two years and it didn't matter anymore.

For a brief moment, Ginny had been a competitive female again, jealously defending her mate. It was a feeling she had not had much cause to experience, other than occasionally getting irritated that Tonya Bellingham had been taking quite a bit of time from Draco of late. Of course, Ginny had no claim on Draco.

Ginny pushed her anger down and looked at Luna with compassion.

"Luna...you loved Harry?"

"Yes, of course. I have since school. But his first loyalty has always been to you, and you're my friend, and I always thought you two were truly meant for each other. But I was sort of hoping that if you were with Draco, I might have a chance with Harry again, and that maybe we could all be happy and still be friends."

"Luna, Harry is - wait, what do you mean, again?"

"Oh. Harry never told you?"

Ginny felt an air of unreality rush over her.

_She's not going to tell me she had an affair with my Harry, is she? Friend or not, I swear I will introduce her first-hand to the Bat Bogey hex if she says that! Harry wouldn't have cheated on me - would he?_

"Told me what?" Ginny's tone was quite thick indeed.

"Remember our sixth year, when you two broke up?"

Ginny nodded, mute.

Shortly after Christmas, in Ginny's sixth year, she had broken up with Harry. It had shattered her heart to do so, but Harry's angry outbursts, rudeness, and short-temper were simply too much. She loved him dearly, and knew that he loved her - which was why she dumped him. She had every intention of marrying Harry eventually, but she knew that if she didn't take a stand, he would be dumping on her for the rest of her life. She didn't want that.

It was a tremendous risk. It took every bit of willpower that Ginny had, but she convinced herself it was better to lose him forever than to risk a life where she would grow to resent and even hate him. Let Harry live without her for awhile and see how he did; she knew, in her heart, that Harry needed her in a way even more than she needed him.

The next two months were hell. Harry's anger changed to pleading, from pleading to crying and back to anger. He didn't understand, he couldn't see how he treated her. He snapped at everyone and would look at her with a stricken face every time she walked into the hall. He sent flowers and gifts. He did everything except apologize.

She never let him see her cry. She never, until it was over, let him know that she was suffering just as much as he was.

Finally, Harry had come to Ginny one day while she had been sitting by the lake at Hogwarts and elaborated in great detail the different ways in which he had been a prat. He begged her to come back, and she accepted the fact that Harry realized he had to start treating Ginny with more respect. It was only later that Ginny confessed just how miserable she had been, and that she had been crying mere moments before he had come up to her.

"I will never forget how horrible I felt during that time. What happened, Luna?"

"I was already in love with Harry. I saw other boys, but no one ever dominated my thoughts like Harry did. Well, maybe your brother, sometimes. But he never even really noticed me. Harry did. He was in love with you, but I knew that if you weren't around, he would probably be with me. Yes, I think he would."

Ginny just sat in silence. She could think of nothing to contradict what Luna was saying.

"Anyhow, when you broke up, I had my chance. Oh, Ginny, he was so, so miserable. He would come to me all the time, and we'd talk for hours, and I was mad at you for dumping him, and mad at him for driving you away, and mad at myself for loving him. And, of course, I was mad at him for being too dense to see that I loved him. Silly boy. But he needed me, Ginny, he really did. Harry hasn't been loved much in his life, you know. Not until you met you, and Ron, and Hermione and Hagrid."

Ginny paused to digest that. "No, he hadn't. And that's one of the reasons I loved him. Because I knew that if he could be so decent with so little love, I, oh, hell, I don't know.."

"If you give him a little bit of love, you get a lot in return. The more you love Harry, the better he becomes. In every way." Luna finished Ginny's thought.

"Yes, I guess you could say that. I'm not angry, Luna, really, I'm not. What happened?"

"One day, we were talking, and I was just holding him. He told me that he felt safe with me, and that he wished things were different. I already knew you and him would get back together. But I was feeling very selfish. I'm sorry, Ginny. I just wanted a taste of what could have been. So I kissed him. He was quite shocked, really. But it was nice. And then he kissed back. It was the longest, most wonderful kiss I ever had, before or since."

"It was really hard, but when I finally broke away, I told him that I just had to kiss him, and that I loved him, and would always love him, but that he was meant for you. He said that he had ruined things with you forever, and that he had been an ass and that you would never take him back. I told him that you were just as miserable as he was and that you two were meant for each other. Then I took him up to the Astronomy Tower, and had him look down at you by the lake."

_Harry pushed the telescope aside and looked at Luna._

_"She's...crying."_

_"Yes. She misses you. She misses your touch, your laugh, and the times when you're gentle and kind. She misses the little things you do for her. She really likes it when you send her poems with Hedwig, you know. She lights up every time she sees that big bird swoop down when she least expects it. And she really likes it when you work her shoulder blades after Quidditch; you need to remember that."_

_"Luna...I...have to go to her."_

_"I know. That's why I brought you up here, you dummy. You've really been quite horrible to her sometimes. She loves you, she wants to marry you, but she had to teach you a lesson, first."_

_"Luna...I'm scared...I mean, that kiss we just shared, it was, well...I love Ginny...but I think I could love you, too."_

_Luna gazed at him serenely, as only she could._

_"Yes, Harry, you could. Part of you even loves me already, I think."_

_Harry gave a shy grin. Luna's heart fluttered, but she forced steel into her normally ethereal voice._

_"But, I think your future is with Ginny. She has always had first claim on your heart, and I really believe you two were meant for each other. I may be wrong. If I am, you know where to find me. I kissed you, Harry, because it was my only chance. I don't think I'll ever get another. But that's ok."_

_Harry walked to Luna and embraced her. She felt his breath in her ear._

_"I'm so sorry, Luna. I do love you. I wish it could be different. I don't think I could have made it through these past months without you."_

_"No. You would have gone bonkers, just as if your brain was infested with Nargles."_

_"You're the most honest person I know, Luna."_

_"Probably.__ There's a third-year Hufflepuff who may be more honest, I'm not sure."_

_"That's it, then?"_

_"Yes. You're wasting time. Go to her. Just remember, whatever happens, I will always, always be here for you, Harry."_

_Harry grabbed her close and gave her one more kiss. A solitary tear ran down his face, and he murmured softly, "For memory's sake." Luna felt her own eyes well up with tears as she took his hand and softly kissed it._

_"Go. Please. Before I change my mind."_

_Harry went down the stairs, looking back once at Luna, who watched him until he turned the spiral. A few minutes later, she turned away from edge of the tower after watching Harry walk up to Ginny by the lake._

_She wasn't surprised the next morning at breakfast when giggly, excited girls at the Ravenclaw table spread the word that the Hogwarts Wonder Couple was back together._

"Bloody hell." Ginny used Ron's trademarked phrase, since it was the only thing she could think of. She didn't know what to feel. She looked at Luna with new respect.

_I will not be angry, or jealous. I had no claim on Harry at that point. I will try to be happy that someone else besides me was able to love Harry, however briefly, in his lifetime._

Ginny realized that Luna's feelings for Harry had never been a teenage crush or infatuation. Only now, Ginny saw that Luna had loved Harry as deeply and strongly as she did. The fact that Luna's love could never be consummated or even acknowledged pained Ginny in an abstract way - abstract, because, after all, it was her husband, the father of her children, who was being discussed here.

Ginny realized, not for the first time, just how truly fortunate she had been to have been loved by Harry, however briefly.

She also realized how fortunate she was to have a friend like Luna Lovegood. She knew, instinctively, that if Luna had not pushed Harry towards Ginny at that critical moment, Luna could have won Harry's heart forever. For all his virtues, Harry often took the path of least resistance - and Ginny knew that Luna was fully aware of the sacrifice she had made, so long ago.

_Has Luna loved anyone else? Ever? Has she even told anyone besides me?_

"That must have been quite difficult."

Luna beamed. "Oh, it was! It feels better to tell you, though. I was so hoping you wouldn't be mad."

Strangely, at that moment, the sense of unreality Ginny usually experienced when she was with Luna was nowhere to be found.

"I have to ask. Does anyone know about how you felt about Harry?"

Luna shrugged. "I was feeling sad and frustrated one night and told Colin Creevey. He's really good at keeping secrets, you know."

Ginny choked on her water as she accidentally inhaled some.

"That's an understatement."

Luna drew herself up formally and looked straight at Ginny.

"I have to tell you this. Virginia Potter, I, Luna Lovegood, am giving you notice that since you appear to be in a romantic relationship with Draco Malfoy, I fully intend to pursue Harry Potter for his affections."

Ginny looked concerned as she felt the unreality wash over her yet again.

"Luna, Harry is dead."

Luna looked puzzled.

"Are you sure? I never quite believed it. I always thought that he might be on a secret mission or something. Is that really true?"

"Yes. I held his body."

Luna's voice dropped. "Really? At the Quidditch game? He's really gone?"

Ginny was dumbfounded. She had never guessed that Luna didn't really believe Harry was dead.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Luna, but he's really dead. I still love him, you know. But I have to move on. And so do you."

Luna sat in absolute silence. Her eyes went totally out of focus, and Ginny had to strain to hear her words.

"Everyone said he was dead. But I never felt like he was dead. I never believed it. Never. You wouldn't lie to me, Ginny, would you? He's really gone?"

"Oh, God, Luna, yes, he is. It's been over two years now."

Luna continued to stare at nothingness. Eventually, she spoke, and her voice sounded like that of a small girl.

"Do you think he's happy? Is he with Sirius? And his parents, finally? And Dumbledore and Hagrid?"

_Damn it, I will not cry again. I have been crying way too much lately!_

Too late. Against her will, Ginny felt her eyes begin to water. 

She sat and talked with Luna for a very long time.

Ginny arrived home very late indeed that night. Her mother, patient as ever, had put Ginny's children to bed. As she lay alone in bed, Ginny pondered her life, and the nature of her friendships. Draco. Luna. Hermione. Neville.

As she drifted off to sleep, Ginny could not help but feel blessed that she had such wonderful friends. Tomorrow would be a new day. She resolved to enjoy it. Perhaps she would be able to pry Draco away from Tonya long enough to have a night out on the town


	16. Starfall

**Chapter Sixteen - Starfall**

Ginny sat by herself, sipping a glass of wine and watching Sirius and Elizabeth play on the floor. She was somewhat worn out; Draco had taken the Potter family to a Wizard Circus earlier that day and it had been a sticky, humid day.

Sirius, especially, had enjoyed himself immensely. Ginny was aware that Sirius was beginning to view Draco as some sort of father-figure; a development that seemed to both amuse and trouble Draco, who nonetheless rose to the role with aplomb.

Draco would make a decent father someday.

Ginny smiled as she thought about the idea of Draco having children. Ginny had no doubt that Draco would be a devoted, doting father. Lucius had given Draco an eloquent education in how not to raise a child, and Ginny was confident that Draco had learned the lesson well.

Ginny had once wondered, however, if Draco would ever be a suitable mate for any self-respecting female. After what they had discussed today, she was confident the answer was yes.

Ginny's calculating mind knew that it was no longer an academic question. The topic that both of them had been dancing around had finally reared its head today.

Ginny and Draco had been lying against a tree in a grassy knoll, overlooking a huge enclosure where children could ride around on toy brooms that didn't rise more than five feet off of the ground. The enclosure was charmed across the entire length so that if a child fell off a broom they would float gently to earth, and their broom would float down after them. Sirius and Elizabeth were clearly enjoying himself; so was the ride operator whose eyes bulged when Draco showered him with a sizable amount of gold, muttering, "No timers for these kids, they ride as long as they want."

As Ginny looked down at the dozen or so children racing around, she closed her eyes as Draco stroked her hair. She felt comfortable with her back against his chest as he sat against the tree. Draco had cast a modified Disillusionment Charm before sitting down so that people could see them together but not quite understand what they were saying. All part of the act, he assured her, but she knew that he enjoyed being in such close proximity to her.

And, if truth be told, Ginny felt strangely at rest with Draco's body so close to her.

"Isn't it a beautiful day, Draco?"

"Yes, it is. More so because I'm with you."

Ginny felt her breath catch. _He's going to cross the line._ _Draco__ Malfoy is going to make an honest-to-goodness play for me._ She suddenly realized she couldn't make up her mind whether to be excited or terrified.

_I'll give him one last chance to back out gracefully, just in case he doesn't realize what he's doing._

"You know, Draco, no one can hear us. You don't have to play a part anymore."

A long pause, as she felt him tense slightly behind her. She felt her skin tingle as she felt his lithe, muscular form through the thin summer robes.

"I'm not playing a part right now, Ginny. This is the real me."

_Well, damn. Here comes the conversation I've been both dreading and looking forward to. I gave you your chance, Draco. I hope this doesn't hurt either of us._

"You need to be honest, Draco. What do you see me as?"

Ginny felt Draco's chest inflate as he took a deep breath. He stopped stroking her hair, and let his hand drift down to hers. She didn't resist as he took it.

"I don't know, Ginny. I truly don't. You're the most important woman in my life aside from my mother, I can tell you that. I am more attracted to you than I've ever been to anyone else. I guess I'll take you any way I can get you. I'm your friend, and I'd love to be more. It's up to you. You know, it's really not easy for me to say that."

"And Tonya?"

A sigh. "She's a lot of fun, especially for a Muggle. I can't help but admire the way she accepts our world. I don't know. It could get serious, I suppose, but it's not serious right now. If I let it go on for longer - and I don't know what I'm going to do - it may turn into something else. But I don't spend much time thinking about it."

So far, Ginny had not been able to detect a hint of deceit. Draco was being absolutely sincere.

"And how would I be different from any of the other dozens of women you've conquered?" Ginny regretted the cold words the instant she uttered them.

Draco stiffened even more. "That is a cruel thing to say, Ginny. I expected better from you. I'll give you an answer, though, this one time. I reckon you have a right to ask that since I've never tried to hide the way I am with other women. I like women. I really do. All of the other women in my life have been fun. Just that. Nothing more. Fun. You are the first and only woman since Jennifer who I've ever thought I could ever love. Every other woman has always been temporary. I've never even imagined a life with anyone else except Jennifer - never - not until I started spending time with you."

"I'm sorry, Draco. You didn't deserve that."

"No, I didn't - but you had to ask it. I would too, if I were you. I don't blame you. But now it's my turn, Ginny. Two questions. Will you ever be able to love again, and where do you see me in your future?"

Ginny took a moment to compose herself. She turned, finally, to look at Draco. His cool words and tone did not hide the fear in his eyes. At that moment, Ginny realized that Draco was totally and absolutely baring himself to her. He was naked, stripped of all emotional defenses. The responsibility was staggering.

"I have been terribly, terribly selfish, Draco. I won't deny it. I look forward to spending time with you, I get excited when we have plans. I love it when you compliment me. I'm the worst kind of tease, Draco, and I know it. When you touch me, I enjoy it. When I flirt with you, I'm happy. When you hold me close, I want to get closer."

Draco still looked nervous. "But?"

"No buts, other than to say I'm just not ready. I can see us becoming more, please believe me, I can. Do you know how many times I've almost kissed you? Do you know that sometimes I just want to bring you in my room and lock the door? But I can't. Not yet. I just need a little more time. I can't help it."

Draco began to visibly relax. "You're not just saying that?"

Ginny looked straight into his eyes. "I'm terrified, Draco. I've never really been with another man. School boyfriends from fifteen years ago cannot compare with nearly a decade of marriage to a man I dearly, dearly loved. I don't even know if I'm any good in bed! It worked for Harry and me, but we were a couple of virgins learning together!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "At least, I think we were. I found out yesterday that I'm still learning interesting things about Harry even though he's dead."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "You will have to enlighten me on that one later. As for wondering if you're any good in bed, I don't have any worries on that score."

Ginny smiled. "Oh yes. Back to us." Ginny paused, thinking. _US.__ Draco and __I._ "Wow, that's just. I mean, Draco, my mind boggles. I'm so sorry, I'm using you so terribly, you don't know how much pleasure I get out of our relationship and I give you so little in return."

"I told you, Ginny, I'll take what I can get."

"I'm just not ready to love another man. Not like that. I promise you, Draco, when I am - and I will be, someday - I promise you that you will be the first to know."

Draco closed his eyes. "I can't ask for anything more than that. I'm not going anywhere, Ginny."

Ginny couldn't help herself. She wanted more. She made a tentative move forward, leaning in to kiss Draco.

He quickly brought up his finger and put it on her lips. She felt him tremble, felt his whole body tense.

"No. Ginny, please no. Not until you're ready. I said I'll take what I can get. I'll take friendship. But until you're ready to give more, I don't want to get physical. I can't. It would be too much."

Ginny moved her fingers to her lips and snaked them around Draco's fingers, entwining their hands together. Her voice was a low whisper.

"Would one kiss be too much, Draco?"

His voice was equally soft in return. "Yes. If I was to start kissing you, I would never stop. Please, Ginny, I beg you. I want you. I want you totally, absolutely. But I have to warn you, Ginny, once you start, there's no going back."

Ginny forced herself to lift her head up, higher, away from Draco's face. She gave a little cry of frustration.

_If you pull his fingers towards your mouth and kiss them he won't be able to resist. You know it, and he knows it. You can call your mother to come and watch the children, Apparate away with him and be in his bed in sixty seconds._

Ginny pushed the traitorous thought away.

"You're right, Draco, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive, Ginny. We're just two people doing the best we can."

Ginny smiled, and relaxed back against him.

"Think you can keep doing that thing with my hair?"

Draco's normal aloof tone returned, but Ginny could detect a new lightness to it.

"I think I can handle that, Ginny."

Ginny closed her eyes, and lightly dozed, listening to the sounds of her children play as the strong man behind her stroked her hair and wondering how to gently start easing Tonya away from him.

Later that evening, after Draco had gone home, even her children had commented that their mother seemed happier than usual. Ginny dreaded seeing her mother's knowing eyes next time she saw her.

_Nothing's even happened yet and I feel like a giddy schoolgirl._

Finally, she managed to get her children to bed. Exhausted though she was, she thought she would read a bit before retiring.

Ginny didn't want to trouble the house elves at this late hour. Dobby would be happy to get her whatever she needed, but she resisted the urge to summon him and went into the kitchen to make a snack.

She was startled by the unmistakable _POP!_ of someone Apparating into her living room.

No alarms. The wards weren't triggered. It had to be a friend.

But it was damned peculiar.

Taking no chances, she drew her wand and briskly walked into the living room. A horrible stench assaulted her immediately, the scent of decay and sickness washing over her in a vile wave.

Growing alarmed, she shouted _Lumos__!_ and brought her wand up to the attack position. She should withdraw, but her children were upstairs. She had to trigger the emergency wards.

However, before she could speak, she was struck dumb by the sight of a wrecked creature in her living room. Matted black hair and a bushy beard did nothing to hide the exposed skin and oozing sores of the figure. Raw tendon seemed to show through the shattered elbow of the figure, whose left arm hung limply at its side. Filth and matted blood covered the person. Blackness and dark smudges covered the body; there was not a trace of color to be seen.

Except for the eyes.

The bright, emerald green eyes staring right at her.

The figure began to croak the words Ginny hadn't been able to utter.

_Starfall__._

_Lemon Drop._

_REQUIEM._

As the four code words were spoken, Ginny felt the lighting change as every magical defensive ward on the grounds of the Potter House activated at once. She could hear the air crackle with magical energy, and in her mind, she head the voice of the Call, set up so long ago.

She rushed forward, just in time to catch Harry Potter as he fell limply into her arms.


	17. The Call Goes Out

Chapter 17 _- _The Call Goes Out

In years to come, everyone who was summoned that evening would remember that the night truly began when they heard the voice of a long-dead wizard in their heads, calmly intoning words they had all hoped never to hear.

_Trouble at the Potter House.__ Follow the Plan._

**Snape**

Severus Snape was in the middle of an exceptionally boring staff meeting when Albus Dumbledore's voice echoed through his brain. He winced - the long-dead Headmaster's voice was so loud it was nearly painful, and it took a second for him to realize that no one else in the room had heard the Call. It was all in his head. He stood up, interrupting Headmistress McGonagall, and said, "There has been an emergency. I must leave at once."

Minerva McGonagall's eyes widened, but she replied evenly, "Do what you must, Severus. Let me know when you return."

Snape gave a curt nod, and called out, _"Accio Nimbus! Accio Pouch!" _as he held out his arms. The yells of shocked students rang through the halls as a large pouch and a broom flew to his hands. He fastened the pouch to his waist, mounted the broom, and flew out the window. Speed was of the essence; he had to get off of the Hogwarts grounds as quickly as possible if he was to Apparate in time to be of service.

**Edwin**

_Trouble at the Potter House.__ Follow the Plan._

Edwin raised a hand to his temple and shook his head. He looked at Patricia with fury in his eyes. She saw something dark pass over her face and wondered why Edwin suddenly looked so angry.

"Edwin?"

"No. It's not you. Ginny needs help. I need to go. I love you."

"Be careful."

"Always. Listen for word from Molly, she may need help at the Burrow."

Edwin grabbed her, roughly, and gave her a deep kiss. He looked at her once, and Apparated away to the Potter house.

**The Burrow**

Molly Weasley was reading a magazine when the voice sounded in her head.

She jumped up and looked at the clock. The hand for Ginny was holding steady at "Home", and she willed it not to swing to "Mortal Peril". She drew her wand, and waited for what was to come. A moment later Percy Weasley Apparated in, followed by Fred, George and Bill Weasley. George's wife, Catherine, appeared a moment later.

"Is there any word?" Molly looked at Bill, doubting he had an answer, but she knew if anyone knew what was going on, he would.

"No. Fred, George, Catherine, check outside. The defensive wards should be fully up. I'll stay here with Mom and we'll wait for word." Bill shot a glance of his own towards the clock and allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Whatever was wrong, the Potter house would be an armed camp within moments. 

The Weasley children and Catherine went outside with wands drawn. They knew the plan; if the Call was ever sent forth from the Potter house, the Burrow would be a refuge for the Potter children from whatever was happening at Ginny's home. As such, the Burrow would have be turned into a fortress. Three handpicked Aurors, holding special Portkeys given to them personally by Arthur Weasley, had appeared and taken up positions outside the house as well. They were merely the first wave; within five minutes, a fourth handpicked Auror had quickly assembled a dozen Aurors who were not on the Call list but who would all share the fourth special Portkey to reinforce the Burrow, for regular Portkeys were no longer able to penetrate the defenses of the Weasley homestead. A magical grate had slammed over the fireplace, and it suddenly filled itself with sand. The Burrow was effectively sealed off from the outside world, and only one of the Portkeys at Ginny's house would allow entrance to the Burrow. Molly looked at a picture of Arthur and waited for her grandchildren to arrive.

**Neville**

Neville was in the library at the Ministry of Magic, looking up an obscure countercurse when the voice of the long-dead Headmaster of Hogwarts rang through his skull. He did not even bother putting the book he was reading on the table before he Apparated away; the sound of the book hitting the floor caused one or two patrons to look up before continuing with their reading. The two wizards of his protective detail looked at each other in dismay before wordlessly deciding to Apparate to Neville's house in hopes that he would eventually show up there.

**Draco**

Silently studying a Muggle DVD player partially disassembled on his floor, Draco was getting quite frustrated. He thought of calling Ron to help him with this; he always seemed to know how to get these silly things to work with magic instead of electricity. Malfoy was toying with the idea of running a power line to Malfoy Manor when the voice rang out in his head. He had never been on good terms with the late Dumbledore when the old man was alive; but his voice had never filled Draco with such dread. Draco shot up from his sitting position and ran to a cabinet, casting a spell to open it. He removed his staff, and tucked his wand away in a hidden spot in his robes. He could not recall feeling this scared since he saw Jennifer tortured; he had seen his friends in mortal danger before, but if there was danger at Ginny's house, then there was an excellent chance that her kids were in peril as well. As he vanished into the air, his mother entered the room, saw the empty cabinet where she knew he kept his staff, and wondered what new threat had summoned her son.

**Ron and Hermione**

Ron and Hermione had enjoyed a very romantic day indeed. Hermione had noticed that Ron hadn't bugged her about having a child all week long. At various times throughout their marriage, one or the other had felt the urge to have a child, but never both at the same time.

Hermione was at her most flirtatious, and was thinking that Ron would be very surprised when he found out that she had stopped practicing Contraceptive Charms without telling him. She was leading Ron by the hand to the bed when both of them heard the voice in their heads. Ron looked stricken and just whispered, "Ginny," as Hermione grabbed their wands off of the nightstand and handed one to Ron. 

She squeezed his hand tightly, and just said, "Let's go," before they vanished together to Ginny's.

**Lupin**

Remus was beside himself. The Call had sounded in his head ten minutes earlier, but it had taken him that long to find a guardian for his student. His private student was too young to be abandoned alone. With a hurried explanation, he finally Apparated away to Ginny's, hoping he wasn't too late. He wondered if Evelyn was already there - he loved her dearly, and he hoped she was being careful.

**Evelyn**

Evelyn had been giving instruction to an eager group of young witches on the fine art of accessorising one's wardrobe. Her latest lark, a foray into the world of fashion consulting, had surprised no one; Evelyn seemed to change careers every two years or so. All who knew her were aware that she was a formidable personality indeed, but very few knew that she had spent three years working as an Auror before her disdain for authority had led her to leave the Ministry behind. Though it was two decades in the past, her training would always be a part of her, and as she heard the Call, a part of her relished the fight that she was sure she was going to. She just wished it was on another battleground; the thought of fighting off an attack on Ginny Potter's house with Sirius and Elizabeth present was enough to shake even her. 

She looked at her class and said, "Sorry, girls, I'm off to war," before vanishing into the air. The small group of witches looked at one another and wondered if they would get a credit for the class time they were going to miss, never dreaming that the fashionable middle-aged witch was going off to battle Death Eaters.

**Arthur**

"...but we must do more. It is not the type of story that grabs headlines in the _Prophet_, but we must realize that standardization of terms and measures is vital to continued trade between the magical communities of different nations. To this end, I sug-"

_Trouble at the Potter House.__ Follow the plan._

Arthur stopped dead in the middle of a speech at a formal dinner as the voice shot through his head. His eyes widened, and he looked at Sam Rollings, the head of his Protective Detail of Aurors.

Sam was wincing too. He had heard the same voice. He was the only Auror in Arthur's Detail to be a member of the select group that was dedicated to the defense of the Potter family - and an attack on any member of the Potter family was to be treated as the same as an attack on the Minister himself.

_"LET'S GO!"_

At the sound of Rolling's booming voice, four Aurors bounded in front of Arthur, with wands drawn. Ten more Aurors ringing the dinner crowd dropped their discreet attempts to blend in with the crowd and also drew their wands.

Screams filled the air as the crowd saw the normally passive-faced Aurors all tensed as if in preparation for battle. No one knew what the threat was, but seeing the Protective Aurors drop their usual obscurity and stand revealed as the very dangerous individuals they truly were was quite a shock.

The air rushed out of Arthur Weasley as a large, particularly burly Auror grabbed him in a bear hug and triggered a Portkey. Arthur felt the jerk behind his navel, and reappeared in a small room, surrounded by ten Aurors. They all joined hands, and grabbed another Portkey that was in the center of the room. They appeared in yet another room, and repeated the procedure again.

No one would be able to trace the multiple Portkey jumps. Even Arthur was unsure where their final destination was.

The last room they appeared in was bare but functional. Clearly designed to be able to accommodate a large group indefinitely, the safe house was equipped with various esoteric magical devices to allow the Minister to govern from this location in time of war.

Arthur didn't speak. His Aurors were the consummate professionals, and would organize the information as it came in.

The voices of the Aurors all blended together as some of them began getting information from various sources. Crystal balls, portable secure floos, stealth owls, Muggle radios and strange devices that Arthur had never seen before were all being used to track the different reports coming to the bunker.

"The Burrow is secure. The Potter children have arrived."

"Ginny's aura is troubled, but she's alive and unharmed."

"Scopes are clear on all Ministry monitors."

"There are at least five Aurors, and ten members of the Order at the Potter House now. There appears to be some sort of Death Eater attack in progress, but it is strangely disorganized and ill-focused. May be a feint."

"All Ministry facilities are being evacuated."

"Hogwarts is quiet. The Headmistress is demanding to know what we did with her deputy. Appears that he's at the Potter House too."

Arthur cleared his throat and spoke, interrupting the stream of updates.

"Indeed. Snape at Ginny's house. No wonder her aura is troubled; Death Eaters don't faze my daughter much, but having Severus Snape in her house must be trying indeed."

A low laugh echoed through the assembled staff and Aurors - any joke by the Minister, even if a bit feeble, always called for a laugh.

"That can't be."

"Repeat that."

"I WANT CONFIRMATION!"

"Malfoy said that? Really?"

"St. Mungo's confirms, a team is being dispatched, per Snape."

"Diggory has arrived, he confirms as well."

  
Arthur felt ice grip his heart. What was going on? St. Mungo's?

A staffer Arthur was unfamiliar with looked up from a milky ball and hesitantly approached the Minister.

"Out with it." All of Arthur's normal kindliness was gone. His tone was curt.

"Sir...the reports from the Potter house are that, um, Harry Potter is there and quite alive, although grievously injured. A special team from St. Mungo's is attempting to stabilize his condition now."

Dumbstruck was far too weak a word to begin to describe Arthur's thoughts.

"He's talking."

"Shit, with those wounds he should be unconscious or dead, how can he be talking?"

"Do we even know for sure it's him?"

"Casualty report - one Auror down, disabled. Looks like friendly fire - appears that he tried to check Harry out to confirm his identity and Ginny hexed him across the room."

Arthur suppressed a smile.

"Oh shit."

"What?"

The Auror who had uttered the expletive ran up to Arthur.

"Sir, I have a priority message direct from Reserve Auror Harry Potter."

Arthur wondered for a moment - of course, Harry was listed as a "Reserve" Auror before he died - or whatever happened to him - so that he could still maintain a tenuous official tie with the government. Arthur resisted the urge to smile at the young Auror's formality. After all, he was just following procedure.

"Yes?"

"Priority message: You must issue a general defensive recall and lockdown at once. A Split Wand has occurred. I checked that last bit twice, sir, those are the words he used."

Arthur paled. There was no doubt. Only Harry Potter and a few others knew that phrase.

Arthur took a moment to think. It could be a trick. It might not be Harry.

If it WAS Harry, the implications of ignoring his request were too horrible to contemplate. Arthur had no choice.

"So ordered. By order of the Minister of Magic, a General Defensive Recall and Lockdown is issued effectively immediately. All reports on secure channels until further notice."

The bunker became a hotbed of brisk, businesslike chatter.

All over Britain, undercover Aurors began extracting themselves from wherever they were. The entire Dark Arts Defense League was put on standby alert. Every off-duty Auror began reporting in. Hogwarts was sealed off - no one could enter or leave.

A small phone in 10 Downing Street began an urgent wail. The phone had never rung before, except during tests. The Muggle Prime Minister closed his eyes and reached for the phone with a shaking hand.

Split Wand. Code word for the compromise of a high-ranking government official. The sign that a person with enough information to cause dramatic damage to the wizarding and muggle worlds combined had been broken by the other side.

Recall and Lockdown. The standard, textbook response to the imminent danger of invasion or dramatic attack.

With one sentence, Harry Potter had just warned the world that the magical cold war that had been simmering for so long was about to turn very hot indeed.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES AND REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**4-18-04******

Bah.  So, I have decided that I will have this at the end of the latest chapter, and will keep moving it.  I wish it could be a standalone chapter, but ff says no.  I don't want to just leave notes at the end of the chapter, because it's very disrupting when a person finds this story for the first time and reads it straight through.

I've been reposting this, one chapter a day at a time.  Today, I decided to bombard you with four or five chapters – three of my favorites are the Hedwig chapter, the Luna chapter, and, of course, Starfall, where things really start to happen.  The normal posting schedule will resume Tuesday.

So, here we go, newest first:

**Elf Princess Claire**:  You ask, "Do I know how much [I] rock?"  Actually, no, I don't.  Please continue to submit glowing reviews to tell me.  It helps encourage me to get chapters out more quickly.

**Eric 2:  **Well, gee.  You get the grand prize for guessing that Harry was still alive.  And, it looks like you guessed there was more to the "daddy getting post" thing than just pure sentimental fluff.  As you will see, "daddy getting post' was crucial in the escape of Harry from wherever he was.  You've been reviewing every single chapter, and I thank you for it.

**Snuffles95141:  **I've been updating one chapter a day – today you get four!  Is that quick enough for you?  I must warn you, by chapter 23 or so the pace of updates will slow down a bit…I would like to thank you for your frequent reviews.

**Rae-Bo the Jedi Knight:  **Yeah, I wrote the thing and I still tear up a bit when I read that chapter.   I'm rather proud of it, because not only do I shamelessly pull at heartstrings with it, I'm sneaky with it, too, as you will see in the next chapter.

**Jared Drake:  **You say, "Shouldn't this be listed under Draco/Ginny? Harry is gone…" and I say:  GOTCHA!  Read chapter 16!

**Hillary and Jess:   **Great to see you reviewing my story again!  As I recall, it was one of your reviews that pushed to a decision in the last version of GPSS – you commented that the "Edwin as Sirius isn't working" – I agreed with you, 100%.   The character of Edwin was ALWAYS in the plan for GPSS, but with the death of Sirius in GPSS, I decided to graft many of Sirius' traits onto Edwin.  This was a mistake of mine, borne out of a lack of self-discipline – I had some really good doggy jokes in the first draft and couldn't bear to toss them out the wind.  Also, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to Sirius.  

This weakened the story.  Although Edwin still gets to keep Patricia, who was slated to be Sirius' wife in the first draft of GPSS, his Animagus powers are thankfully gone.  I thank you for your review of the first posting, which confirmed my belief that I had made quite a mistake by making Edwin an Animagus in the first version.

And hey, what happened to Jess?

**Retkula****:**  Ah, my target audience – yes, I'm deliberately dragging out the repost process so as to gain more readers who missed it the first time around.  Thanks for reviewing!

**H. Malfoy** -  Did they nuke your whole story, or just a chapter?  I got two notices, one that they were nuking the offending chapter, and one that they nuked the whole story.  The errors in the message led me to conclude that whoever did it didn't know what they were doing.

**GinnyPotter08**:  Do you have multiple personalities?  Are you channeling both Ron and Ginny?

**Ahbahh****:  **Sorry, it's not so bad, though, is it?  You advised to "forget about the re-write and just repost the whole thing at once, but there are two problems with that" – A.  the re-write was needed, and B.  Dragging out the repost process allows more people to see the story.  

Seriously, since the first posting, FF has cleaned up it's formatting routines.   Due to oddities of the old FF formatter, I had to actually upload each chapter two to three times to get a decent format – and even that had problems.  FF didn't like italics that much, I use Linux OpenOffice, and the combination caused problems.  FF has since cleaned up it's formatting routines, so I don't mind posting – it now takes a minute to repost, instead of ten.  I won't go into details, but it's a LOT easier for me to post now.  So, I want to fix all the little errors that were there before that I was too lazy to fix – I mean, who wants to fix a spelling or punctuation error if it's going to take you ten whole minutes?  Plus, there were just some glaring errors in the story that needed to be addressed.  The rest of it should be up within a week or so.

**Alatoic01:  **Thanks.  Your "FINALLY" comment seems to indicate you read the first version; glad to have you back.

TO ALL OTHER REVIEWERS – sorry if I didn't mention you by name – I'm short of time, and have focused on trying to answer questions.  Please, keep reviewing!

Thanks,

Steve


	18. The Beginning of Revelations

**Chapter Eighteen - The Beginning of Revelations**

Ginny held Harry in her arms, and forced herself to think rationally.

_Is this Harry?_

Dobby rushed into the room, followed by two other house elves.

"Ginny! Who is that? What is wrong? How can Dobby help?"

_No time. Get the kids out of here, NOW!_

"Dobby, this is the bad day I told you might happen. Get the kids to the Burrow, NOW! Hurry! I'll be fine, help's on the way!"

Dobby paused for a moment, not wanting to leave Ginny. Then again, Mistress Ginny (it had taken her years to get Dobby to stop calling her "Mistress", but he still thought of her like that in his elfin mind) had given him a very clear order. Without a word, he pulled a small chain out from under his Hawaiian surfer shirt and turned to yell at the other house elves.

"You heard Mistress! MOVE!"

Ginny watched the three elves run upstairs. She knew that as soon as they were with the kids, Dobby would rip the cloth off of the small Portkey that hung on a chain around his neck and transport with the kids to the Burrow.

_One less worry. Now, IS THIS HARRY?_

The limp form in her arms was barely breathing. He was mostly naked, with a few foul rags tied around his body. A small pocket had been sewn into one of the strips of cloth, and a small wand stuck out of it.

_Starfall. Lemon Drop. Requiem. It must be him._

Four totally unrelated words - well, three groups, since 'Lemon Drop' was technically related - that would never be spoken in sequence in normal conversation. Four words that, if uttered anywhere on the grounds of the Potter house, would summon the most trusted friends and allies of the Potter family immediately even as several different wards sprung up to assist in the defense of the house.

The words had never been spoken, except when the wards were first created. Only the Potters and the House Elves knew them.

_My darling husband. What has happened to you? Where have you been?_

_No time. Must get downstairs. No. I'll wait until someone else gets here._

As if on cue, Ron and Hermione Apparated into the living room at that moment, popping up in separate corners with their backs to the wall, wands at the ready. Hermione resisted the urge to look at Ginny as she scanned the room for threats, while Ron handled talking to Ginny.

"Status, Gin?" Ron, as always in combat, was brief. There was no need to ask what the mess in her arms was; Ginny would tell him if it was relevant. The time it took to say unnecessary words could get someone killed.

"Harry's alive, Ron. I've got him. Stay in the living room, Hermione and I will take him to the sub-basement. When the others get here, send Snape and Draco down to the sub-basement as well. We need everyone with healing abilities we can get. Everyone else who shows up, deploy at perimeter, owlery, and lower floors. Whoever did this to Harry will most likely be following."

Ron looked at the shattered person in Ginny's arms. It bore no resemblance to the vibrant Harry Potter he knew.

_What's happened to you, mate? How could I have let this happen?_

"Right, Gin. I'm on it."

Hermione and Ginny levitated Harry down to the sub-basement. The lowest level of the Potter house, it was also the most secure. If it appeared the external defenses were in danger of crumbling, the sub-basement could be secured so that it would be virtually impossible to breach. The two witches immediately began casting the proper spells that would turn the sub-basement into an infirmary.

Just then, Draco poked his head in the door. He saw Harry lying on the newly-conjured bed.

"Shit."

Draco was paler than Ginny had ever seen him.

Ginny locked eyes with Draco.

"It's him, Draco, I'm sure.

Draco looked over the limp form. The stench from the bed was overwhelming.

"I'll be right back. It'll be a bit before you're done setting up, and there's no one else besides Ron here yet. I'll come back down as soon as we have some reinforcements upstairs."

"Go."

Draco bounded up the steps, to meet Snape in the living room. Ron was scanning out the windows, and strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

"Severus. Harry Potter is downstairs."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "I trust, Draco, that you have taken the precaution of using a Conrevelium Potion to verify the identity of this individual before making such an outlandish statement."

"I can't. He's...wrecked. I've never seen a human being so badly damaged and still breathing. Any type of revelation potion would surely kill him."

Snape didn't like that. It was too convenient. "That is unfortunate. Has a decision been made as to how to proceed?"

"Ginny is acting as if she's convinced it's Harry."

Snape's tone was flat. "She can hardly be relied upon to be objective. What is your opinion?"

"I only saw him for a minute. I think it's him."

Snape looked at Draco very closely indeed. Draco watched Snape's face as Snape seemed to be fighting some sort of battle internally. "We shall proceed under that assumption, then. Two people must always have their hands on their wands in his presence until the situation has clarified. Even if it is him, he has been missing for two years. He may not be under control of himself - he may be a puppet."

Draco knew Snape was right, but somehow he didn't think that there was much point of sending Harry to the Potter house if he was being controlled by Imperius or some such curse. The person he saw in the sub-basement was too badly damaged to be a threat. However, he saw no advantage to be gained in arguing with the Potions Master.

Wordless, he went back down to the sub-basement, followed by Snape.

The former Death Eater strode into the room, and nearly recoiled from the smell.

_The scent of death. Decay. Devastation. Will I ever be able to escape it?_

Ginny approached Snape, a lost look on her face.

"Severus...look what they've done to my husband. Please, help him."

Snape couldn't help but be shocked. Draco hadn't been exaggerating.

Snape surprised himself as he said with uncharacteristic tenderness, "Ginny, I promise I will do all that I can to save him."

He looked over at Hermione. He saw her fingers moving coolly, competently as she expertly attended to Harry. He noted the colors of the potions she had selected and was preparing to administer, and could see no fault in them. She looked at him with a questioning look.

"Quite right, Miss Granger, the infusion of Beltricia is certainly the proper response for this case, and I agree with following it with an injection of Essence of Trillium. I could do no better. Please continue."

Hermione nodded, mute, as she continued preparing various potions. Snape held his fingers to Harry's wrist briefly, and unbuckled the pouch from his waist.

"Miss Granger, excuse me, Mrs. Weasley. I trust you to use the contents of my emergency pouch as you see fit. There is a legend on the parchment in the side pocket that will tell you anything you should need to know. Exercise extreme care with the purple vial that has the vertical white stripe. Draco, I concur, I see no threat here. Disregard my earlier statement about two wands."

Hermione nodded again and quickly looked over the parchment.

Snape withdrew a small mirror from his robe. He held it to his face and spoke to it.

"Minerva, I need you. It is urgent."

A moment later, Snape's face faded from the mirror to be replaced with the image of the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Yes, Severus, what do you need?"

"Are you alone? Can I be overheard?"

"I am in my office. We have privacy."

"Very well. I am at the Potter House. It appears that Harry Potter is not quite as dead as we have been led to believe. He is in dire need of immediate healing. Kindly tell Fawkes that Harry Potter is dying at the Potter House and that he is needed at once."

"Good heavens. Severus, I - yes, of course. Are the wards up?"

"Yes, I will wait for Fawkes just outside the grounds."

"Be careful, Severus. Please. Do you think Voldemort is behind this?"

"I am sure of it. I expect a Death Eater attack at any moment."

Minerva looked troubled. "The Death Eaters will come at you in force if they cannot breach the wards and you are outside their protection."

Severus gave a thin smile. "Indeed. I am counting on it."

"Don't take unnecessary chances, Severus. I am much too busy to find another Potions Master. And you still owe me a game of chess."

_Damn you, Snape, it's taken me thirty years to accept you as a friend, don't go and get yourself killed now!_

"I will be fine, Minerva. Have no worries. Now, quickly, Fawkes."

"Of course. Good luck."

The mirror faded to a milky fog.

Snape looked around.

"Ginny. The wards are up; is there a floo I can use solely for communication?"

"There's a small emergency firepot upstairs in the living room. It's just big enough to fit a head into. There's a shield over it that you have to lift. It's made of a brown clay, and the shield is copper."

Without a word, Snape ran up the steps. He immediately saw the portable floo that Ginny was referring to.

"Weasley, I need to call St. Mungo's. Cover me."

Ron nodded, and stood back several feet from Snape and pointed his wand towards him. Snape and the house would be slightly vulnerable when the magically reinforced copper shield was lifted from the emergency floo.

Snape lifted the shield, threw a bit of powder in the floo, and stuck his head in.

"Doctor Wellington, St. Mungo's Complementary Medicine Ward!"

Twenty seconds later, Snape watched as a gray haired man sat down in front of a fireplace at St. Mungo's.

"Professor Snape! What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to hear from you until next week."

"Doctor, I am not calling about the scarring potion. We have an emergency."

The doctor was immediately businesslike.

"Tell me, Snape."

"Male, about thirty years old, severe malnutrition coupled with starvation, extreme dehydration, probable Crucio-induced damage, numerous fractures and burns, lacerations varying from one to ten centimeters. Likely riddled with parasitic infection. Compound fracture of the left femur. I also suspect the patient has been dosed with a certain potion containing honeyshade essence. Pulse racing and weak. Weight, approximately eighty pounds. Unconscious. Unknown mental condition."

"I will prepare my staff."

"You must do more. The patient cannot be moved for security reasons."

The doctor sighed.

"Where is the patient?"

"I cannot tell you. I will send an Auror that is known to us both to guide you and your staff."

"Very well. Give me five minutes to shrink my equipment. My staff is already assembled. Is there at least electricity there?"

Snape thought to himself for a moment. Potter, Muggle upbringing. Weasley, Muggle-obsessed family. Surely they would have wired the house for electricity.

"Yes, there should be."

"Right-o. Five minutes."

"On the mark, Doctor."

Snape pulled his head out of the fire and slammed the copper shield down. There were now several people assembling in the living room.

Snape quickly identified Amos Diggory.

"It's good that you're here, Diggory. Can you take charge here? Auror Weasley needs to go to St. Mungo's to retrieve Doctor Wellington."

Diggory nodded curtly and looked at Ron.

Ron's tone was icy.

"My place is here."

Snape turned the full force of his glare on Ron.

"If that person downstairs is Harry Potter, he is dying. Magic alone will not be able to save him. Medi-wizards and Healers can only do so much. If he is to survive, he will need a combination of both magical healing and Muggle medicine. You are the only Auror available who is known by Doctor Wellington. It is vital that I send someone who is capable of penetrating the anti-Apparation wards around the Potter house. Do I make myself clear?"

Ron had no choice but to see the wisdom in Snape's argument.

"Crystal. I am on my way." With that, Ron Weasley Disapparated to St. Mungo's.

Snape's mind raced to see if there was anything he had missed. Doctor Wellington was not only a brilliant Magical Healer, he held a Muggle Doctor's certificate as well. The Complementary Medicine Project set up by Arthur Weasley mixed Muggle medical technology and magical healing. It had already saved several people who would have died had only magical or Muggle remedies alone been available. Snape hoped it would work for Potter.

Satisfied he had thought of everything, he reported on the situation as best he could to Amos Diggory before rushing outside so that he could get past the wards to meet Fawkes. As he left the house, he heard a voice behind him announce that the first waves of Death Eaters were attempting to breach the wards.

Downstairs, Hermione, Ginny and Draco attempted to stabilize Harry. An Auror they didn't recognize came down to the basement.

"Master Auror Diggory told me to tell you that a special team from St. Mungo's is on its way. Ron Weasley is going to bring them."

Ginny looked at the young Auror. "Thank you."

The Auror looked around, and wrinked his nose. "Who is that?"

Hermione looked at the Auror. "It's Harry Potter. That will be all, thank you."

The young Auror frowned. "Who's confirmed his identity?"

Ginny glared at him. "I did. Please leave us alone now. We're quite busy."

The Auror attempted to project an air of authority.

"His identity needs to be verified, by an active Auror! That's protocol!" He drew his wand and advanced towards the table.

There was a flash of light and a crash. The Auror flew across the length of the room, and collapsed in a dazed heap. Ginny walked up to him with her wand drawn, fury in her eyes.

"It's my house. Fuck protocol. Get out of here."

The Auror looked wide-eyed at Ginny. His eyes darted to Draco, looking for support and finding none in the slate-gray eyes of the senior Auror. Thankfully, the young man had the intelligence to keep his mouth shut. He scampered to his feet and limped up the stairs, realizing that the redheaded woman had not only blown him across the room, but had somehow disabled his ability to wield his wand. It kept sliding out of his hand.

Ginny walked back to the bed. She dipped a sterile cloth into a bowl of purified water and started gently wiping Harry's face, trusting Hermione to administer more complex treatments.

Harry's eyes flicked open.

"Ginny."

She lowered her face to his.

"Harry. Oh, Harry, I love you. You're going to be ok."

"Kids...safe?"

"Yes, they're at the Burrow, everything's fine. There's Healers and Doctors on the way, too."

"Missed...you."

"We'll talk later, darling. You need to rest."

"Not...yet. Who's...Minister?"

"Dad. You'll be so proud, Harry."

Harry smiled.

"Tell him. Tell...him...he needs to order...a recall...general recall...and lockdown...everything, he needs to secure everything, he needs to, right away, and tell him...there's been a split wand. Quickly, Gin, hurry. Split wand."

Ginny looked at Draco, who nodded and ran upstairs.

"Was that...Draco?"

"Yes, my love. Draco and Hermione are here."

"Good. Where's...Ron?"

Ginny choked back a sob.

"He's bringing the medi-wizards from St. Mungo's. I think they need him to get past the wards."

"Wards...holding?"

"Yes, my love, they're the same ones we made together. We're safe here."

Harry's eyes darted to the side, and he saw Hermione. His hand crept over hers.

"Hermione. You...been taking care of my Wheezys?" A feeble grin crossed Harry's features.

Hermione looked down at Harry with watery eyes.

"Of course, Harry, oh, it's so good to have you back! I wish I could hug you but I don't think I should!"

"Too...right you...are. It would..hurt too much. Ginny...Hedwig...gone...I'm...sorry. Couldn't...stop it. So...sorry. Bastards killed her. They killed...my bird. But she had…last laugh.  She saved me.  Hold this...for now."

Harry's hand pushed a strange wand over to Ginny, who gently pulled it from his fingers.

Her eyes widened in shock. It couldn't be...

She waved her own wand over the wand Harry gave her. Words formed in her mind as a result of her analysis spell.

_Oak. Eleven Inches. Magical-Owl Feather Core._

Ginny looked down at her husband as he slipped back into unconsciousness. As his body went limp again, the fingers on his other hand opened and Ginny picked up the two bloody pieces of parchment that fell to the floor. Despite the grime and clotted blood, she could still make out the bright childish drawings and oversized words underneath the filth.

**-28-04**

As stated previously, this chapter of "review responses" will continue to be appended to each chapter –newest review first.

General note:  FF.NET formatting is giving me fits again – at least with my D/G story, Draco Malfoy and the Denial of Reality – it is requiring multiple uploads to get the formatting right.  Oh, by the way, I hear people say, "Well, is this a D/G story or an H/G story?"  All I say is, time will tell.  Everything in life changes, and I plan to keep writing the Ginny Potter character right up until Ginny Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – unless canon changes to such an extent with Book Six that I just don't have the heart to continue, in which case I will declare this fic AU and give it a clean finish.  Will Ginny Potter become Ginny Malfoy?  Time will tell – but I sure won't.  One hint:  the one ship that certainly not change is the R/Hr ship, unless, of course, either Ron or Hermione gets killed…there is much more story to be told. 

Now, onward to review response:

mickyD's:  Nice idea, but too much trouble.   I can't get FF.NET to respond to my emails asking why they nuked my story; I don't think they'd respond to my suggestions, either.

SweetPea :  I do love my cliffhangers.  And I hate it when other authors do it to me.  I guess I'm just a terrible person. : )

Fan :  Here's your update.  More to come!

Psycho lady:  What an interesting handle – and no information on your profile.  Psycho AND mysterious.  Anyhow:  I'm glad you like the relationships – on one hand, I like to keep things moving, but on the other, I want things to seem to grow, not just wave a wand and have people doing things.  Of course, Harry's return is going to confuse a lot of people.  It will be interesting to see how his kids deal with it.  As for Luna, I must confess I'm proud of how I handled that chapter – there are few authors who can really handle Luna well – Michelle_31a and Dr. T come to mind – but I think I didn't bungle her in that chapter, and that in itself is an accomplishment.  As for Luna winding up with Harry in the end, well…there is a scene coming up where an angry, bitter, broken Harry finds himself outside her house on a rainy night.  It's going to be one of my cliffhangers.

If you liked the pacing in 16 & 17, wait until you see 18 and 19 – I forget what the title for 19 is, but it should be "Snape Kicks Ass, Takes Names, and Generally Acts Like Snape."   Things will then slow down a bit until I'm ready to torture and kill some more of our favorite characters.

As far as your question about Hedwig, yes, as you saw in chapter 18, she made it – and she didn't so much as PROMPT Harry to come home as ENABLE Harry to come home.

As Sirius Potter would say, she's the best bird that ever was – with all apologies to Fawkes, of course, who doesn't have quite as much ego as Hedwig.  
  


Wytil:  Your reaction is precisely what I was aiming for.  Thank you.

Hillary:  Of course I remember you.  And that silver hand bugs me, too – although at least in GPSS, I've taken the liberty of having Harry whack it off in a flashback.  I do have plans for Peter, though.

Eric2:  You've guessed right, again!  Are you cheating?

Snuffles 95141:  More updates on the way.  Be sure to check out Draco Malfoy and the Denial of Reality, which was also updated today.

Eric2:  yeah, it bugs me how Colin just doesn't get any respect.

Iain :  As I said earlier, I am quite proud of the Luna chapter.  And yes, that weird creature is what you think it is, although I think I'm the only fanfiction author crazy enough to make the Snorkack actually speak and have intelligence.  I just threw it in there, I doubt (although it's possible) that we'll learn more about it.  There will be more Luna, however.  And Ginny's relationship with Luna just got a lot more complicated.

Eric2, again:  Yes.  Draco has the potential to be quite complex.I hope JKR sees that, and either redeems Draco in some way or gives us some good Slytherins at some point – I mean, they can't ALL be evil.   And I know, from bitter experience, that sometimes people can change for the better.  I don't like canon!Draco – he seems to not have any redeeming qualities except a degree of loyalty and some cleverness – but the seeds of a fascinating character is there.  I hope JKR lets them grow.


	19. Beginning Skirmishes

Chapter Nineteen - Beginning Skirmishes   
  
Snape strode briskly across the grounds of the Potter House, still protected by the wards. He was just in time to see three Death Eaters Apparate onto the dirt road leading to the house. They had obviously been dispatched in a hurry, for they had no masks or hoods.   
  
_Fairbanks, Crabbe Junior and some other young fool I don't know - this is going to be too easy._   
  
The three Death Eaters all saw Snape at the same instant. Snape couldn't quite hear the curses they were shouting at him, but it didn't matter. He resisted the urge to shake his head as their spells rebounded off of the wards.   
  
_A Slytherin, a Hufflepuff and some idiot who dresses like a North American Shaman. Nice to see the Dark Lord has become so multicultural in this day and age. Perhaps next he will show up at Hogwarts to sing Kum-bay-ah with Minerva._   
  
Snape couldn't help but grin as he prepared to deal with the three Death Eaters. The grin turned into an expression of astonishment as the self- styled Shaman ignored the warnings being shouted at him by Crabbe and dashed towards Snape, thereby crossing the threshold of the wards.   
  
_Somewhere, Merlin is weeping as he sees just how stupid some so-called wizards are today._   
  
The moment the Death Eater entered the wards, time slowed down for him. At first glance, the Death Eater appeared to be perfectly still. A closer study would show that he was still moving forward - only very, very slowly. Time had slowed down for the Shaman. He was still moving towards the house - in five hundred years, he might even reach it.   
  
Snape unleashed a quick _Stupefy_ at the hapless victim, and then turned his attention to Crabbe and Fairbanks. They were standing about ten feet back from the wards; Snape was surprised that they were skilled enough to have cast the necessary spell to see the outer ward boundary.   
  
No matter.   
  
_Wingardium Leviosa! Accio Fairbanks!_   
  
At Snape's words, Crabbe instantly flew into the air, and Fairbanks was pulled towards him. They were both too close to the wards - there was no time for them to maneuver before they, too, were immobilized by the slowing action of the Time Shift ward.   
  
_Why waste time with curses when first-year spellwork is sufficient enough to deal with these morons?_   
  
Snape knew that there was no way Voldemort would rely on these disposable pawns to try to recover such a valuable prize as Potter. More capable attackers were surely on the way to the Potter house.   
  
He glanced back at the house, and saw figures taking defensive positions around the perimeter of the house. A shimmer of the air indicated that someone else was using a Disillusionment spell to hide their presence in the Potter Owlery - but the simple spell could not fool Snape's trained eyes. He knew that the wizards or witches in the Owlery were covering the people on the ground.   
  
_Good. Weasley and Diggory have deployed their forces well. I will not concern myself with the defense of the house; I can focus on looking for Fawkes._   
  
Walking around the perimeter of the wards, Snape was at the back of the house scanning the skies when he saw four Death Eaters on the lake side of the house. This group appeared to be more intelligent. Two of their number were jointly maintaining a reinforced Shield Spell, covering another wizard who was obviously a curse-breaker. The fourth wizard was analyzing various components of the ward and passing instructions to the curse breaker.   
  
Snape didn't waste his energy by attempting to break through the shield. He merely stood there and surveyed with a look of contempt.   
  
He could not recognize any of them; for this group was hooded. He locked eyes with one of their number to see an expression of purest hate.   
  
_Oh, so you recognize me, do you? Even now, are you dreaming of the reward your master would bestow upon you were you to present him with my corpse? Or better yet, my living body, fit for endless, unspeakable tortures?_   
  
A shimmer flickered, as the ward began to fail. Snape took several steps back - he would only have a few moments once the Time Shift ward fell.   
  
With a cry of triumph, the curse breaker leapt up from his kneeling position as he raced forward. The shield casters and the leader also rushed ahead, eager to lay hands on Snape.   
  
_CRUICIO! STUPEFY! IMPERIO! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!_   
  
Four Death Eaters cast the four spells in perfect unity, hoping that Snape would not be able to deal with the consolidated attack.   
  
Nothing happened.   
  
The four Death Eaters all watched in helpless horror as Snape shouted _Stupefy_ and one of them fell. The other three attempted shield charms. Nothing happened.   
  
_Finite Incantatum._   
  
At Snape's words, the spell the curse breaker had cast to open a hole in the Time Shift ward - effectively, building a sort of magical tunnel through the ward - ended. The three Death Eaters froze as the Time ward reactivated in that area.   
  
_They don't even realize what happened, do they?_   
  
Snape truly regretted the situation. As a result of what had just happened, Snape knew that he would have to acknowledge to Ron Weasley the effectiveness of the layered defense he had designed for his sister's house. Snape knew that there was a three-second delay on the second ward, which would only kick in if the Time ward had a breech. The second ward had no effect whatsoever - no effect, that is, other than the fact that it would deprive a person of the ability to cast magic. Of course, the group specified for the defense of the Potter family was exempted from the effects of all of the wards.   
  
_Ronald Weasley. The man is an irritating, obnoxious Weasley, married to an accursed Muggle-born Wizarding equivalent of Albert Einstein - but his gift for sneakiness and strategy would have been welcome indeed in Slytherin house. Of course, if I ever spoke that thought aloud I daresay I would be sharing a ward with Lockhart._   
  
A fifth figure approached the ward, wand at its side. The Death Eater wore no hood as he surveyed the still bodies of his comrades who had fallen to the wards. The complete and utter defeat of his allies did nothing to alter the cool, superior gaze of Lucius Malfoy.   
  
"Severus. It has been a long time."   
  
"I am a bit busy, Lucius, what do you want?" Snape kept his wand ready, but did not make any hostile moves.   
  
Malfoy looked disgusted.   
  
"I knew this futile assault would end in disaster. I advised against pursuing the Potter boy when he escaped. This is the result of ignoring my counsel." Lucius shook his head and gestured towards the fallen Death Eaters as he spoke.   
  
"One does not counsel a madman, Lucius. Surely you would have learned by now the futility of attempting to guide the Dark Lord when he is enraged. And, no matter what you advised, surely you know you will be punished for bringing news of this defeat to your Master." Snape studied Lucius, struck by his body language.   
  
_Lucius, my former friend, you look.weary._   
  
"Do not adopt a superior tone with me, Severus. After all, for how long did you call him Master as well?"   
  
"Far too long. Is there a point to this conversation, Lucius?   
  
Lucius Malfoy just stared at Snape, regally, before his aristocratic features softened.   
  
"Not really. Give Potter my regards. The Boy Who Lived has certainly grown into a worthy opponent. I wish I knew how he escaped."   
  
"You will forgive me if I don't owl you with that information when I find it out myself."   
  
Lucius shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, I suppose. Kindly inform my son that I hope that he can find a new mate now that Potter has returned. It would be a shame if he was taken by Kyrene's before continuing the Malfoy name. Horrible timing, really, Potter escaping now. A union between the Malfoys and the pureblooded Weasleys would have produced offspring of uncommon power. Did you know that it's been at least three centuries since a Malfoy and a Weasley married? I doubt that Arthur would be kind enough to invite me to the wedding, however."   
  
Snape was literally dumbstruck. He had been prepared for anything when he arrived tonight. Anything, that is, except Lucius Malfoy, carefully standing a safe distance away from the multi-layered wards of the Potter house, calmly discussing his approval of his son's romantic conquests. The fact that Lucius had done nothing while his Master had nearly killed Draco on numerous occasions did not seem to even faze him.   
  
_Perhaps Lucius was hit by a Confundus charm before coming here? If so, what happened to the caster?_   
  
No. His speech was too measured, too precise, not displaying the fast- paced babbling distinctive of those who were suffering from _Confundus_. Lucius Malfoy was in full possession of his mental facilities.   
  
Anger flashed through Snape, as he thought how Lucius had nearly destroyed Draco. That undoubtedly accounted for the elegant vulgarity of what Snape said next.   
  
"Jennifer DePorter was a pureblood, too, as I recall." _Go to hell, Lucius. For Draco's sake._   
  
For the first time, a flash of true anger crossed Malfoy's face.   
  
"I warned you once to watch your tone, Severus. Men such as us should know better than to dwell on the unalterable past. That mark, forever part of your traitorous arm, should remind you of that. Does it burn, even now, as the Dark Lord rages at Potter's escape?"   
  
Snape said nothing. In the distance, the faint echo of Phoenix song sounded. Snape prepared to do battle; Lucius must not be allowed to impede Fawkes.   
  
Lucius turned and looked up at the sky. He saw the trail of fire as Fawkes dove towards the house. Without a word, Lucius Malfoy Apparated away, leaving behind a very confused Severus Snape.


	20. Confessions

Chapter Twenty - Confessions   
  
Twelve days after he returned home, Harry Potter opened his eyes and looked around.   
  
He didn't know that twelve days had passed since he returned. He didn't know that since his return, three Ministry buildings had been destroyed, several secret Gringott's accounts had been plundered, and two Aurors working undercover in various borderline criminal operations had been murdered.   
  
He didn't know that there had been an attempt on the life of the Muggle Prime Minister, who was saved only because the lone Auror who was secretly attached to his security force had instituted a policy of checking all of the Minister's meals for poison. The Lockdown ordered by Arthur Weasley had many far-reaching effects; not the least of which was a heightened alert status for all security personnel. The Muggle security force had rolled their eyes when the Protective Auror had insisted upon being awakened even if the Prime Minister wanted a snack at two in the morning. They stopped rolling their eyes one morning when the Auror scooped a bit of the Prime Minister's strawberry gelatin onto a piece of bread and placed it into a can, only to have it burst into flame seventy seconds later. The Auror had been alerted when one of his spells to detect exotic poisons had returned an uncertain result.   
  
He didn't know that his heart had stopped late on the night of his return, and only the quick action of Doctor Wellington had saved him. There was no magic to re-start a stopped heart - had a Muggle heart defibrillator not been present, Harry would certainly have died.   
  
He didn't know that his children were being watched at the Burrow under the anxious eye of Molly Weasley. He didn't know that Ginny had cried as she made the decision not to tell the children of Harry's return until he was strong enough to hold them. He didn't know that Draco, Ron and Hermione had led the assault on the estate in southern Wales where Harry had been held, and were still working on consolidating the wealth of intelligence that had fallen into their hands.   
  
There were many things that Harry Potter didn't know.   
  
He was very certain, however, that he was very happy indeed to be home.   
  
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the soreness throughout his body. He was very glad to feel the soreness because it meant that he was alive.   
  
Finally, he attempted to push himself up. He felt an unseen force restraining him against the bed. Panic seized him; he had been a prisoner for so long that a wave of total fear ran through his body. He could not be restrained, could he? He tried to push himself up but only succeeded in raising himself a few inches.   
  
As he flexed his atrophied muscles, he was dimly aware that there was an electronic beeping in the background. He struggled against the invisible bonds that held him to the bed only to hear the beeping increase in pitch and speed.   
  
He tried to call for help, but only a dim croak came from his mouth.   
  
Ginny Potter came running into the room, holding her wand.   
  
_Finite Incantatum._   
  
At Ginny's words, the restraint spell was removed. Harry could feel it give way, and instead of continuing his struggle to sit up he relaxed and fell back onto the bed.   
  
"Ginny. . ." His voice was slightly more than a croak now, but still weak and rough.   
  
"Here, wet your throat, my darling." Ginny poured a glass of water from a pitcher near the bed, and held his head up as he gratefully sipped the water down.   
  
"Thanks."   
  
He lay there for awhile, looking at his wife.   
  
_My wife. It's been two years - two years since you thought I died. Are you still mine?   
  
We have so much to say. Where should I begin?_   
  
"I love you." The three words were the first words Harry had managed to say in something resembling a normal voice. Apparently, they were the right ones, because Ginny didn't answer, but kissed his forehead, then lifted his hand and kissed that, and finally, gently, brushed his lips before burying her face between his shoulder and ear.   
  
Despite everything, despite the two years of torture, abuse and neglect, despite the wretched condition of his body, for a brief moment Harry felt seventeen again as his wife whispered in his ear.   
  
"I will never, ever let you go, Harry."   
  
She held him for quite a while, oblivious to the strain on her back as she awkwardly leaned over the bed. She felt his warm breath on her skin, and his warm tears slowly moistening the crook of her neck. Thankfully, the incredible stench that had been present at Harry's return had been mostly eliminated.  
  
Finally, she laid him back down on the bed.

Harry's voice was tentative.

"How long since I've been back?"

"Two weeks. I've been going crazy waiting for you to wake up."  
  
Harry gave a feeble movement, and then surrendered. "I can't sit up, it takes too much out of me. I want to see you."   
  
Wordlessly, Ginny reached down to the small box wired to the Muggle-made bed. She pressed a button and the head of the adjustable bed slowly rose up, allowing Harry to sit upright.   
  
Ginny put the control back and held Harry's hand as she sat in a chair next to the bed.   
  
Ginny looked Harry straight in the eye and smiled as she said, "Harry James Potter, you better have a good explanation of where you've been."   
  
Harry couldn't help it. He laughed, the first real laugh he'd had in many months.   
  
"Just thought it would be fun to hang out with Tom Riddle and his merry men for a while. Found out they don't have much of a sense of humor."   
  
Harry's face grew serious. "They kidnapped me from that plane, Ginny. I didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late. Did that Muggle woman get out of there ok?"   
  
Ginny smiled. "Sort of. The Obliviate spell we cast on her started degrading a few months ago. That's how we finally figured out Tom was behind your, um, murder."   
  
Ginny's smile faded, and her tone change, becoming almost a plea. "Oh, God, Harry, I'm so sorry, we all thought you were dead! I held your body! It was warm!" Ginny's voice became more strained as she spoke, and the last words came out almost as a sob.   
  
"Ginny, Ginny, it's ok. Believe me, I understand. It was a brilliant plan. Now, what do you mean by the Muggle woman is 'sort of' ok?"   
  
Ginny forced herself to smile again. "I was trying to make a joke. She's sort of ok because, well, the spell started to degrade and she met Hermione's parents at some sort of dental convention - she's a dentist - and recognized the Granger name. That led her to us. Draco's been shagging her senseless occasionally ever since, so that's what I meant by 'sort of' ok."   
  
Harry laughed, again. Ginny continued. "Her parents were in the plane as well. They didn't make it."   
  
Harry didn't respond. Ginny knew what he was thinking.   
  
_More people killed, solely so Riddle can get to me._   
  
She squeezed her husband's hand tighter.   
  
Harry looked straight into her eyes, and spoke in the awkward phrasing of Parseltongue.   
  
_Ginny, I do not know how I would live without knowing you were my mate._   
  
Ginny spoke, as she had not spoken for over two years.   
  
_I thought you were gone forever. Our offspring forced me to try to live._   
  
The slightly stilted language of Parseltongue came naturally to Ginny; she had originally been horrified to learn in her fifth year, that Riddle's possession of her had left her with an unwanted gift - she had somehow become a Parselmouth. She did not want to be able to speak to snakes; she did not want to have any gifts from Voldemort, however unintended.   
  
Her distaste for her talent ended when Harry found out about her ability. Much to everyone else's amazement and chagrin, Harry discovered that he could speak with Ginny in a language no one else could understand. Since snakes aren't exactly known for their expansive vocabulary - there were many English words which had no equivalent in Parseltongue - Harry and Ginny added words where none had previously existed. That, coupled with their familiarity with each other's speech patterns, resulted in a sort of Parseltongue dialect that no one else - not even another Parselmouth - could ever understand, or duplicate. This was generally considered to be a good thing, since there were no other known Parselmouths in the world except for Voldemort, an American Indian in the Southwestern United States, and a reclusive wizard known to reside in France whom no one seemed to know much about.   
  
Ginny switched back to English.   
  
"Hermione figures that the Obliviate spell that Draco cast began to break down because Draco didn't have full knowledge of what happened in the plane. Since Draco's mind controlled the parameters of the Obliviate spell, the events that happened before the actual crash weren't precisely blocked the way they should have been."   
  
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Really? What happened in the plane?"   
  
Ginny shrugged. "A bit of Imperius on the pilot to put the plane into a dive, and it appeared the yoke had been transfigured as well. Draco detected magical traces of the transfiguation on the yoke when he re- examined the wreckage a couple of months ago as well. We figured the whole thing had been part of an elaborate plot to murder you. I guess we should have exhumed your body as well."   
  
Harry's face was grim. "You would have found the skeleton of a Muggle derelict. It appears Tom has come up with a new Polyjuice potion that works for several days, and also does not wear off with death."   
  
Ginny looked stricken. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Draco suggested we exhume you, and Ron agreed, but I put my foot down. I knew you were dead, and the exact gory details of what spell they used to kill you didn't seem important. I didn't want them digging you up, Harry, I didn't want them to violate you. If I had just let them do it, we would have known and we would have found you, somehow."   
  
Harry shook his head. "I'm glad you did it. I escaped on my own - well, Hedwig helped me. If you had come looking for me, one of you may have been hurt or killed. It worked out better this way. I just wish Hedwig didn't have to die."   
  
Harry started coughing, and Ginny gave him some more water.   
  
"I'm feeling a bit hungry, can I have something to eat?"   
  
Ginny looked a bit troubled. "I have to ask. The Healer said that you should start with soft foods at first."   
  
Harry snorted. "Forget that. I've been semi-conscious for the past week sometimes, I have weird dreams about you feeding me that baby-food stuff you've been giving me. I do believe I'm rather tired of it."   
  
Ginny smiled. "You knew it was me?"   
  
"Yeah. I could smell you sometimes, too. Your scent haven't changed. I tried to open my eyes, but it was like I was in a fog. Why was I restrained?"   
  
Ginny stroked Harry's forehead. "You had spasms a few times and almost fell out of bed. The Healer was afraid you would shatter some bones. We've been busy trying to put some weight back on you, didn't need to start forcing Skele-gro down your throat as well."   
  
Harry grimaced. "I don't know, I remember that stuff being so unspeakably vile that I think I may have emerged from my coma just to throw it up."   
  
Ginny giggled. "That would have been a touching re-awakening."   
  
Harry abruptly changed the subject. "Where are the kids?"   
  
Ginny's voice was uncertain. "They're at the Burrow. I. . . didn't think you'd want them to see you until you were healthier."   
  
Harry nodded grimly. "You were right. I want to see them. But I don't want them to see me like this. Not until I can at least sit up. I don't want their first memory of their father to be an invalid. Do you have pictures?"   
  
Ginny reached over to the bedside stand, and picked up a photograph that showed Elizabeth and Sirius holding hands and looking at the camera. Every couple of seconds, Elizabeth would stick her tongue out at the camera and giggle and Sirius would lightly slap her on the back of the head.   
  
"They're so big."   
  
Ginny was silent, until Harry finally said, "Do they remember me?"   
  
"Sirius does. He polishes your broom all the time waiting for you to come back. He also is always lecturing his sister about how 'Dad would want this' and 'Dad would want that."   
  
Harry didn't look away from the picture as he spoke. "They told me that they had killed the kids and made it look like an accident a few months after they took me. After a while, I thought it was true. Lucius Malfoy gave me the first clue that they might be alive, but I didn't know what to believe until Hedwig found me."   
  
Ginny wondered about that - Snape's tale of Malfoy's odd behavior had puzzled her and Draco. However, the last person Ginny wanted to discuss was Lucius Malfoy.   
  
Harry put the picture down, very gently, and veered into another subject again. The corners of his mouth turned up in a somewhat suppressed grin.   
  
"So. How long was I dead before Draco made a pass at you?"   
  
Correction, Ginny thought, Lucius Malfoy was the second-to-the-last person she wanted to discuss with Harry.   
  
Ginny's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. For a brief moment, Harry thought his beautiful wife resembled nothing so much as a large-mouthed freckled bass.   
  
"Come on, Gin, don't be shy."   
  
"Harry. . .I don't know what to say."   
  
"It's ok. I was dead, I can't hold anything against you. How long?"   
  
Ginny surrendered. "I finally got him to admit he was interested in me the afternoon you came back to us."   
  
Harry looked shocked. "It took him that long? And you had to drag it out of him?"   
  
Ginny looked helpless. "Yes, I did. He hid it for a very long time. How did you know that he would do it? Did you hear stories?"   
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I was pretty much cut off from any news of anything outside of the basement I was kept in. I just figured Draco has always wanted the best. It was only a matter of time before he decided he could never do better than you."   
  
Ginny drew Harry's hand to her mouth and kissed it. "Look at you. Half dead, and still the flatterer."   
  
"I resent that. I'm only about one-eighth dead at this point. You and the Healers have done wonders for me."   
  
Ginny looked Harry in the eye. "Nothing happened, you know. Between Draco and me. He's been a perfect gentleman."   
  
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Nothing?"   
  
"No. I. . .tried to kiss him that day you came back, when he told me how he felt. He wouldn't let me, said that he would wait until I was ready because it was too soon after your, um, death."   
  
Harry laughed. "Draco, Draco, I didn't know you had such patience in you. I wouldn't have held it against you, but I'm so glad nothing happened."   
  
Ginny's eyes widened, and Harry felt nervous. _Uh oh, is this where she tells me she spurred Draco but went wild with the Puddlemere United Quidditch team?_   
  
"There's something you need to know. . ."   
  
With that tentative statement, Ginny poured out the tale of how Draco intended to trap Voldemort - and the very public cavorting she had done with Draco Malfoy.   
  
Harry sat back and absorbed it all. Finally, he spoke.   
  
"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. Whose idea was it? Ron's or Draco's?"   
  
"Draco came up with the basics, and Ron refined the rough edges."   
  
Harry shook his head. "It's going to work. And I'll help when I'm back on my feet."   
  
Ginny felt a surge of anger rushing through her, but she kept her voice level.   
  
"You won't be on your feet for months." She was relieved when Harry nodded.   
  
"I know. But it will most likely take your plan that long to move along."   
  
Ginny accepted that. Having her husband return from the dead after a two year absence did not make her eager to think about him plunging into danger again. She figured, however, that she could live with the knowledge that Harry was under no illusions regarding his miserable physical - and undoubtedly mental - condition. Her feelings were brightened with Harry's next words.   
  
"Do the Healers think. . . that I will ever be able to play Quidditch again?"   
  
Ginny's heart leapt a little at that. _Thank God, he's not totally obsessed with revenge. I was so afraid that he would wake up wanting nothing more than to be a soldier. We WILL defeat Voldemort, and we WILL go on to do the things that normal people do, we will have hobbies, and Harry will go back to doing what he loves._   
  
"Yes, my dear, the Healer thinks you will recover enough to play again. I asked him that. He's. . .a bit more worried about the mental torture you suffered.   
  
Harry smiled, but there was no joy in this one. His smile reminded Ginny of her teenage years, when Sirius Black had smiled the same way while talking about Azkaban.   
  
"I don't blame him. I'm a mess, Ginny, I'm barely holding it together."   
  
Ginny squeezed his hand. "I'll pick up any pieces you drop."   
  
Harry nodded. His voice grew weak.   
  
"I'm tired. So tired. I've been sleeping for two weeks, but I need more. We have so much more to say, Ginny, but do you think I could sleep for a bit?"   
  
"Of course, my darling. Do you need anything?   
  
"Just. . .when I wake up, can you call Ron and Hermione to come and see me? And maybe Draco?"   
  
"Yes. Do you need a Dreamless Sleep potion?"   
  
"No, not right now. I will later, I'm sure. It's still sinking in that I'm free."   
  
Ginny put the control box for the bed into Harry's hand.   
  
"Push this button to recline the bed if you need to."   
  
A moment later, Ginny realized that she could have saved her breath. Her husband was already asleep.   
  
She watched him for a long time, taking strength from the slow rise and fall of his sunken chest. Finally, she stood up and left to let her mother know that her son-in-law was awake.


	21. Understanding

**Chapter Twenty-One - Understanding**   
  
Hermione Weasley was a mess.   
  
No one wanted to tell her she was a mess. Her hair was pulled tightly back in a bun, and she was blissfully unaware that she was beginning to smell a bit ripe. She had not slept for three days.   
  
Ron gently put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched angrily and jerked away. She did not look at him but rather kept her eyes locked on the laptop computer that was open in front of her.   
  
Ron sighed and walked away. He knew better than to try to distract her. He knew that Hermione was in some weird zone of pure thought, totally and absolutely focused on her work. He would give her until the afternoon, and then he would put his foot down and force her to sleep for a bit, and perhaps even bathe. He was a bit nervous about that, because he didn't think that his wife would be in any shape to Apparate away from this wretched place to bathe, and there was something odd about the idea of stripping off one's clothes and being so vulnerable in the lair of the beast.   
  
A troubled Ron Weasley walked down the hall. His footsteps echoed throughout the deserted monastery that had been Voldemort's base of operations before the escape of Harry Potter. Shortly after Harry had escaped, a team of Aurors had seized it in a fierce but short battle. Voldemort had already fled, and his followers had attempted to destroy much of the monastery. Now, Ron, Hermione, Draco and a small guard force of Aurors were rummaging through the mess in an attempt to gather intelligence on Voldemort - the hideout had been attacked by Aurors so quickly that many documents had been seized, despite the best attempts of the Death Eaters to destroy them. Curiously, a few Muggle computers and other Muggle artifacts were found in the hastily abandoned base.   
  
He walked into the dining hall to find Draco Malfoy leaning back in a chair with his feet on a table. He was reading a parchment, but didn't look terribly interested in it.   
  
"Hey."   
  
Draco looked up at Ron's voice.   
  
"How much longer is your wife going to keep us here?"   
  
Ron shrugged. "You know Hermione. Until she's done."   
  
Draco snorted. "This place makes Malfoy Manor look like bloody Disneyland. Can she hurry it up a tad?"   
  
"I've been married to her almost a decade and I haven't found the way yet to distract her when she's focused on something."   
  
Draco arched an eyebrow. "If you haven't figured out to distract a woman from a bunch of books and a silly computer, it's a wonder the Weasleys ever managed to have so many children."   
  
Ron flushed. "There is one thing that never fails." He started to smile, but stopped.   
  
"Of course, she's a bit.unpleasant to be around at the moment."   
  
Draco looked at Ron with a blank face. "Are you referring to the fact that she only communicates by grunting, or the fact that she's beginning to smell like a goat because she hasn't slept or bathed since she arrived here?"   
  
Ron was too tired to take umbrage at Draco's slur on his wife.   
  
"She's on to something. I know she is."   
  
Any response Draco may have had was cut short by an Auror walking into the room.   
  
"Professor Snape is here. Shall I let him in?"   
  
Draco looked at the young Auror, surprised.   
  
"Are you sure it's Snape?"   
  
The eager young Auror - he had to be only twenty years old - nodded enthusiastically.   
  
"Yes, sir! He's not Polyjuiced or anything. And, er, he remembered an incident from my seventh year that was.well, it was bad, and not many know about it."

The Auror blushed, thinking of his attempt in his last year of school to poison the hated Potions Master with a Potion of Indefinite Flatulence. His clumsy attempt to beat Snape at his own game had been quickly discovered. He shuddered as he remembered thinking he was facing expulsion in his last year at school. Then again, perhaps expulsion would have been preferable to the wrath of Severus Snape. Snape had chosen not to report the attempt to dose him, but rather had arranged a personal punishment of his own devising. The man who had spent years masquerading as a faithful Death Eater could be creative in his sadistic punishments.   
  
"Very well, send him in." Draco stood up to receive Snape, as the Auror went out of the room. A moment later, a swirl of black robes announced the entrance of Severus Snape, with the young Auror at his side.   
  
_Potions Master of Hogwarts, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First Class, Special Advisor to the Minister of Magic, Deputy Minister Without Portfolio, Member, Order of the Phoenix. You think the man would be able to get some different colored robes for a change._   
  
Draco banished the irreverent thought from his head as he coolly looked upon his former Head of House.   
  
"Severus. Quite good to see you."   
  
Snape, as usual, had no time for formalities. He turned to the Auror who escorted him in and curtly dismissed him.   
  
"Leave us."   
  
Without a word, the young Auror fled, gratefully. Once it was clear he gone, Snape spoke.   
  
"I have been meaning to talk to you, Draco. I had an interesting encounter the night Potter did his Lazarus imitation."   
  
It took Draco a moment to place the reference. _Oh yes, the Muggle that Christ raised from the dead._ Draco had an image in his minds eye of Snape standing before a cave, raising his hands and shouting, "POTTER, COME FORTH!" Thankfully, he was able to suppress the smile that almost twisted his traitorous lips.   
  
"I understand my father showed up."   
  
"Yes. As to be expected. What was not expected, however, was his demeanor."   
  
Draco frowned slightly.   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
Snape had an almost childlike look of awe on his face as he said the next words.   
  
"Lucius was. . .chatty."   
  
Draco wasn't sure he heard right.   
  
"Chatty?"   
  
"Chatty."   
  
"Severus, Malfoys are generally not "chatty". And Lucius Malfoy, as a rule, is most assuredly not "chatty". Are you sure it was him?"   
  
"Quite sure. It was quite disorienting."   
  
"Perhaps that was his intent."   
  
"No, he seemed troubled. He had a message for you."   
  
Draco could have collapsed in shock. However, he gave no outward sign of surprise other than a raised eyebrow.   
  
"He expressed admiration for the fighting skills of Harry Potter, and went on to say that it was a pity that Potter escaped, as it would most likely interfere with your romancing Mrs. Potter. Apparently he wholeheartedly approved of the idea of a union between you and the "pureblooded Weasleys" as he put it. He also expressed disappointment that he doubted that Arthur Weasley would welcome his attendance at your nuptials."   
  
Draco was at a complete loss as to how to react to this. His first reaction was not wise.   
  
"You're bloody joking." Draco blurted out the words before he could stop it.   
  
Snape eyed Draco coolly. "I assure you, I am not in the habit of joking about individuals as dangerous as Lucius Malfoy."   
  
Despite all logic, Draco felt a flare of hope burst in his chest.   
  
"Could. . .could my father be. . .testing the waters, perhaps, for. . ."   
  
Snape cut him off. "Don't go there, Draco. Lucius is bound to the Dark Lord, and will be until death. Do not ever think for a moment that he would ever betray the Dark Lord, or even leave his side."   
  
Draco did not bother to keep the bitterness out of his tone as he snapped back at Snape.   
  
"I'm sure there were many who said the same about you."   
  
To Draco's amazement, Snape replied with sadness in his voice.   
  
"Too much has happened. Too much time has gone past. And steps have been taken by the Dark Lord, especially since my allegiance was made public, to ensure that no one can ever duplicate what I did. I wish I could offer you hope, Draco. But I can't. You must trust me on this."   
  
"I'm sorry, Severus."   
  
Snape took no note of the uncharacteristic apology from the younger man. He stared off into space, not looking at Draco, but speaking softly.   
  
"In a world without Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy would have been one of the greatest wizards of the age. Such a waste. I will say this, Draco, much like you, loyalty was one of your father's greatest assets. Without Voldemort, he would have still been ruthless and dangerous, but his talents would have been diverted into politics or business. If you want to be trite, yes, there is good buried in your father, but he can never let it surface, for the sake of his own survival."   
  
Draco said nothing, as Snape continued.   
  
"I wish you could have known him. He was so calculating but so passionate before the Dark Lord made his offer. He could hold a room like no one I had ever seen. People worshipped him. Sheer brilliance on a scale that I never saw until I had the misfortune to have Miss Granger in my classes. Of course, it does not do to compete with the Dark Lord for attention. Your father made the choice to follow Voldemort, and in doing so denied his destiny. I think part of him may approve of what you have done, but he can never, ever openly admit it, or follow your path."   
  
Draco glared at Snape.   
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"What, that your father may regret his choices?"   
  
"No, that Hermione is the most brilliant student you've had."   
  
Snape lips stretched thin in a tight smile.   
  
"Unfortunately, yes. Of course, words cannot begin to explain the pain you would suffer should I ever find out that you shared my words with anyone else."   
  
"Words could not begin to explain the pain it would cause me to admit that I agree with you."   
  
"Is she making any progress?"   
  
Draco shrugged. "Ron thinks that she is. She doesn't talk, she just reads parchments we found and she's got some Muggle fool from the Minister's office working on that foolish computer with her. She jumps up occasionally and wanders the rooms, looking for things. Then she goes back to work. She's either on to something or going mad."   
  
"Appealing as the latter may be, I fear the former is most likely true."   
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, with Hermione she usually does figure it out in the end."   
  
Snape smiled again. "Of course, the fact that she married Weasley may be regarded as an indication that she is already touched in the head."   
  
Draco laughed. "Touched in the head - isn't that Ron's phrase? Severus Snape talking like Ron Weasley?"   
  
"Enough, Draco. Any more thinking about the Weasley couple will make me ill."   
  
"Is there any word on Harry's condition?"   
  
"Yes. He regained consciousness earlier today. Mrs. Potter mentioned that he would like to see the Weasleys and you when he wakes up again?"   
  
Draco was shocked.   
  
"Harry woke up after a two week coma today and you're just telling me now?"   
  
Snape cool tone had the faintest air of rebuke.   
  
"I thought you would find my views on your father more interesting. Potter will not wake again until this evening. Mrs. Potter called me after he fell asleep and asked me to provide a Dreamless Sleep potion."

"She couldn't make it herself?"   
  
Snape gave a most uncharacteristic shrug. "She is coping with quite a bit. Despite my reputation, I am not totally heartless. I told her to call on my for any potions needs. I am surprised she took my request to heart, but I am pleased to be of service."   
  
A trace of bitterness entered Draco's tone. "She wants the best for her husband. And you are the best there is when it comes to potions."   
  
Snape said nothing.   
  
Draco looked down at the floor.   
  
"Shit. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"   
  
"You love her, don't you?"   
  
With one word, Draco confirmed what he had never admitted to anyone else.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Unfortunate." Snape's voice was a monotone.   
  
"Quite."   
  
"That way lies madness, Draco."   
  
Draco waved a hand. "I know, I know. I'll get over it. Harry is my friend and partner, and I'll go back to jumping from woman to woman and pretend I am satisfied."   
  
"There is always Tonya Bellingham."   
  
Draco wondered, momentarily, how Snape knew about her.   
  
"Yes. She is different. Still. . .a Muggle woman, Snape? Is that even possible, long term?"   
  
A flicker of something crossed Snape's eyes, but before Draco could dwell on it, Snape was speaking.   
  
"Only you can really decide what is possible, Draco. I must return to Hogwarts. Mr. Potter will awaken after nine this evening. You should be there. Good day."   
  
Draco smiled weakly, as Snape vanished in another swirl of black robes. He sat there thinking about his confession to Snape, and he was still staring at the ceiling when a grim faced Ron came in.   
  
"Draco, Hermione says she's figured it out. She's sleeping now."   
  
Draco turned to look at Ron.   
  
"Figured what out?"   
  
"Everything. Voldemort's plan. Why he's been so quiet the past couple of years. Why Harry was being held prisoner instead of being killed. Everything. She figured it out, said she would tell us tonight, and said that she needed some sleep."   
  
Ron withheld a few details. He didn't mention that Hermione had turned pale, muttered "Oh no, oh no, oh no," several times, and ran out of the room. He saw no reason to mention that he had heard the sickening noise of his wife purging her stomach of what little food she had eaten over the past few days. She had finally come back in, grabbed Ron without saying a word, and dug her nails into him so hard that she had broke the skin. He had held her, silently, until he felt her relax.   
  
_It's so horrible, Ron, I just need to sleep and wake up. I can't think anymore. Just let me sleep. Oh, Ron, we have to stop him._   
  
He had held her until her breathing came slow and rhythmic. Although she was deep in slumber, Ron was worried to see that her brow remained furrowed, as if some horror had pursued her from the waking world into sleep.   
  
Ron's mind snapped back to Draco, who had been saying something.   
  
"Huh? What? Sorry?"   
  
"I said Snape was here. Harry woke up. We need to go see him tonight."   
  
Ron nodded. He felt a wave of relief wash over him - after two weeks, he had been beginning to fear that Harry would never wake up.   
  
"Good. Hermione should be up by tonight as well. If Harry's up to it, we can all hear the story at once."   
  
Draco wasn't fooled by Ron's calm demeanor. Judging by his expression, his wife had discovered something truly horrible, even if he didn't quite know what it was.   
  
Sometimes, having a friend as brilliant as Hermione Weasley could be quite depressing indeed.


	22. Muggle Games

Chapter 22 – Muggle Games 

Ron and Draco stood in Ginny's kitchen, facing each other.

Ron's voice was strained. "I'm still getting used to it. It's kind of confusing, you know? Almost like life was divided into Before Harry Died and After. And now a new division is starting, After Harry Came Back. I don't think it's quite hit Hermione yet."

Draco nodded. He felt much the same way. Ron, Hermione and Draco had spent a few minutes talking to Harry. Draco had been smiling, but hadn't had much to say.

_Hey there, mate, glad to see you're not dead._

There as simply no graceful way to react to dead men coming back to life, and Draco didn't like being off balance.

"Hermione's going nuts to share what she knows. She doesn't want to go through it twice, though, so that's why everyone's here. And, of course, it concerns Harry."

Draco mutely nodded again. After a moment, he asked Ron, "What's with the Americans? Who are they?"

Ron's face wrinkled in disgust. "I don't like them. Well, the woman is okay, but that fellow with her reminds me of Percy at his worst. They're from the DMA."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, lovely. We find something useful out and the Colonials swoop in to steal the credit?"

"I don't think Dad thinks that way."

"Your father needs a Slytherin advisor sometimes."

Ron grinned. "Between you and me, he's got one. Ginny convinced him to hire the Argoyle Consulting Firm. He's keeping it secret for now."

Draco let out a low whistle. "That explains why he seems so much more polished lately in the Prophet. Pricey. Who's paying?"

"Fred and George, of course. They worked on the marketing campaign for Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Reckon they thought Dad needed a little bit of help with his image as well."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "He does. Has your dad been listening to the consultants?"

"Yeah. Figured he can't be of any use if he bumbles his way out of office."

"Good man."

"Anyhow, I don't like the American idiot. Hermione wanted the Americans present, I don't know. Pompous prick made some comment about Hermione not following channels or something. I don't think he likes Muggle-borns, either, which is kind of odd for an American."

Draco thought about that. He had learned to trust Ron's hunches.

Ron could give Hermione grief, and there were those who thought that Draco lived for nothing else other than to taunt the Muggle-born witch, but Draco was of the opinion that everyone else had to earn the right to irritate Hermione. He had never truly developed a warm friendship with Hermione – even though he now counted her husband as one of his best friends. However, he had great respect for the brilliant witch – and the Malfoy loyalty extended to the wife of his friend. Draco would never admit it, but even as he was still often quite annoyed by Hermione, he wished they could be better friends.

Ron was his partner and friend. Hermione, in her brief days as an Auror, had also been on his team.

She had saved Draco's life more times than he could count.

If someone had a problem with Hermione, then Draco would make very sure that someone would have a problem with him.

Draco's voice was light, but his eyes were cold as he addressed Ron.

"You want me to play with this fool?"

Ron smiled. Draco's idea of "play" usually consisted of humiliating and taunting those he felt beneath him until they cracked. Since Draco sometimes seemed to think that almost everyone was beneath him, Ron usually had to try to keep Draco in check.

Ron thought for a bit. His father, and Amos Diggory were here. They would frown on any untoward conduct on Draco's part.

Then again, the American man had been rather rude to his wife.

Ron had decided a long time ago that there were certain advantages to having Draco as a friend.

He looked at Draco and shrugged.

"Knock yourself out. Let's go."

The two men walked out of the kitchen and made their way to Ginny's crowded living room

Against one wall, Harry Potter was sitting up in his bed, which had been moved upstairs from the basement for this meeting. Ginny was sitting by his side, and Hermione was on the other side of the bed. Amos Diggory and Arthur Weasley were present as well, along with two representatives of the Department of Magical Affairs. The DMA was the American version of the Ministry of Magic, and the two American wizards would not say what exactly they did, other than to say they worked for the Office of Management and Planning. Surprisingly, Tonya Bellingham was also present, sitting next to Arthur Weasley.

Draco suspected that the "Office of Management and Planning" was a crude American front for something more secret, such as the "Office of Killing People, Breaking Things, And Sneaking Around Without Anyone Knowing It." Perhaps he was tainted by Ron's opinions, but he already did not like the arrogant air of the man from the DMA, although the female of the pair seemed reasonable enough. Draco watched their interactions and judged that the woman was also the senior American present.

Arthur was jovial as ever, although Amos Diggory was looking grim. Strangely, Arthur's normally thinning hair was not red, but a rich black with white stripes shooting through it. It was also quite thick. Hermione sat clutching a roll of parchment and a manila file folder, and Draco couldn't help but notice that her knuckles were white around the folder, which was flexing slightly in her tight grip.

"Well! I wish we had more time, Harry, but you did say you wanted all of us here. It was quite difficult for me to explain to Molly that you said you needed to get pressing business of state taken care of before seeing your family. I know you wouldn't say that if you didn't have good reason, I fear I must warn you that Molly is, er, quite upset indeed."

Arthur gave Harry a wan smile.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I need to get this all taken care of quickly. I hope Molly wasn't too hard on you." Harry had sympathy in his tone as he spoke to his father in law.

"Er, yes, well. Yes. She was quite upset, quite upset indeed. I love my wife, but she does have quite the temper."

Ginny looked at her father. "What did she do to you, Dad? Your hair. . ." Ginny's voice trailed off, as she made a gesture with her hand towards her father's rich head of hair that, upon closer inspection, looked more like fur than anything else. Arthur had kept his thick head of hair concealed under his pointy wizard hat until he had come inside the house.

Arthur shot a sideways glance at Amos. Amos rolled his eyes and made a small gesture with his hand, as if to say "Might as well tell her."

"Er, yes, well, your mother, when I told her I had to come and see Harry and that she could not come, she didn't take it well. No, did not take it well at all. Not at all. She, well, your mother tried to transfigure me into a skunk."

Ginny's eyes shone with mirth. A smirk crept across Draco's face, and Ron just looked scared.

Hermione relaxed her grip on the folder a bit, and just made a little sound. "Oh!"

The man from the DMA muttered something under his breath. Draco could have sworn it sounded like "damned amateurs", but he wasn't sure.

Harry, deadpan, looked at his father-in-law and said, "Perhaps I would have been safer in Voldemort's hands. What's she going to do to ME when she finds out it was my idea?"

"I didn't tell her that you requested the secrecy. I thought your recovery would be impeded if Molly found out."

Harry smiled warmly. "I'm truly blessed to have such a wise father-in-law."

Arthur blushed slightly, as a somewhat grumpy Amos Diggory muttered something under his breath about how embarrassing it would be if it was known that the Minister of Magic had nearly been transfigured into wildlife right under the noses of his Protective Detail.

Draco smiled at Amos and said, "Don't worry, I'm sure anyone who knows Molly Weasley would understand that there is no way any mere group of Aurors could be a match for the Weasley Matriarch in full fury mode."

Arthur chuckled softly, and then attempted to bring things back on track.

"Yes. Well. Harry, I'm sure you've heard of the attacks on the Ministry in the past few weeks. It could have been quite devastating had you not warned us to lockdown everything. Could you go into the nature of the Split Wand?"

Tonya Bellingham spoke up. "Excuse me, what is a Split Wand?"

Amos Diggory grumbled a bit more.

"Now, now, Amos, Tonya is cleared for this." Arthur's soothing voice did nothing to dispel the look of displeasure on Diggory's face.

Harry was looking questioningly at Tonya.

"Oh, yes, I've been remiss in my introductions. Terribly sorry. Harry, this is Tonya Bellingham, the Muggle woman you, er, saved from that plane. I've sort of appropriated her for my Muggle Liaison team. She advises me on Muggle governmental affairs."

Ginny looked at Draco. "I thought you said she was a dentist?" Harry caught a tinge of irritation in his wife's voice.

Tony spoke up in an offhand voice before Draco could respond. "I had a dual major before I went into dentistry. I studied political science in university and interned for Parliament before deciding I liked fixing children's teeth more than dealing with old, fat, lecherous inbred politicians."

Ginny voice was flat. "Oh. How nice for you."

Tonya gave Ginny a sweet and utterly insincere smile. "Yes, since it seems my mind is a bit, shall we say, resistant to your little Memory Charms it only made sense for your father to bring me on. After all, that's one less Muggle to bring into the know. I've been working for him part time for the past month, as I shut down my dental practice. Draco was kind enough to introduce us."

Tonya smiled warmly at Draco as Ginny shot him a glare. Harry looked at the non-verbal cues between the two females, then looked at the consternation on Draco's face and twitched slightly, but otherwise gave no reaction.

Arthur Weasley, well-schooled in the unspoken methods of communication of Weasley females – after all, there weren't very many of them – quickly continued.

"And this is Benedict Whiting and Melissa Kaufusi of the American Department of Magical Affairs. They are here at the request of Hermione."

Melissa gave the group a warm smile, while Benedict merely sat there attempting to look superior.

Benedict glared at Tonya.

"I was not informed there would be Muggles present. We will be discussing matters of secrecy. Is this really appropriate?"

Hermione's tone was icy as she replied to the American. "Tonya is a member of the Minister's staff, and one of the things we will be discussing is Voldemort's efforts to influence the Muggle world. Her presence is not only appropriate, but vital."

At that moment, Draco made up his mind to see just how far he could push this idiot. Maybe Amos Diggory would stop Draco, but Draco would at least try to see how many buttons he could push.

For the first time since coming into the room, Draco spoke.

"Benedict? Odd name, that, for an American. I don't suppose the DMA would ever station you at the Auror Headquarters at West Point, would they?"

Draco was instantly rewarded as Benedict bristled. Draco inwardly congratulated himself; apparently their new American friend did not take kindly to being reminded that he shared the Christian name of the greatest traitor of American history. Judging by his reaction, it wasn't the first time that Benedict Whiting had suffered slurs over his name.

Arthur acted quickly.

"Anyhow, Tonya, a Split Wand is a code we use to describe the effect when someone of sufficiently high rank to cause terrible damage has gone over to the enemy or there has been an intelligence breech of epic proportion. The term comes from the fiftenth century when Morday, the Secretary of the Wizard Council, split the seam of the wand of the Council Leader and extracted the dragon heartstring from it. He then replaced the heartstring with a magical feather that would work for a limited time, and sent a message to the French to that effect. Since then, Split Wand has been used to describe treason or betrayal."

Draco drawled. "A fascinating story, really. Perhaps Benedict can enlighten us as to the equivalent American phrase."

Whiting's face flushed red, as his partner attempted to stifle a grin.

"Malfoy. . .enough." Diggory's rebuke caused Draco to assume an angelic face.

Arthur continued. "Anyhow, the attacks on the Ministry would have been impossible if there had not been a Split Wand. Your warning was quite fortuitous, Harry. Do you know who the Split Wand is, Harry?"

"Yeah. Me."

Ron looked horrified. Everyone else sat motionless, except for Benedict, who reached for his wand.

In a flash, Draco was standing in front of Harry's bed, and had his wand pointed straight towards Benedict's throat. All amusement had left his eyes.

"I'm sorry, my reflexes sometimes work faster than my mind. I almost thought I saw you draw a wand on Harry Potter. I hope for your sake that I am mistaken."

Melissa Kaufusi spoke up. "Benedict, we are guests in this country. Maybe it would be a good idea not to pull wands on their greatest living national hero."

Benedict Whiting, shaking with rage and fear, tucked his wand back into his coat. Draco kept his wand aimed for a moment longer, and then twirled it around and slid it cleanly into his sheath, deep within his robes. His eyes lingered on Benedict, and then he turned to Melissa and gave her a quick smile.

"Terribly sorry about that, Ms. Kaufusi, but we do get a bit nervous here in the UK whenever someone draws a wand near Harry Potter. He's been through a bit of trouble, you know, so we are a trifle paranoid."

Much to his amazement, Diggory did not attempt to chastise him in the least. Instead, Amos was looking with compassion at Harry.

"My dear boy. It must have been hell."

Harry's eyes welled up with tears.

"I'm sorry, Amos, I tried to hold out, I don't know why he didn't kill me. I told them everything they wanted to know. I tried, and I tried, but it was just too much."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand, but did nothing else to comfort him. She knew that Harry was fighting for control over his emotions, and that he didn't want to break down in front of all of these people.

Unfortunately, Benedict cemented everyone's view of him as an absolute idiot by speaking.

"You revealed secrets to the enemy?"

Harry closed his eyes in shame. Ron glared with absolute venom at the foolish American.

Draco stepped forward, his hand wrapping around Benedict's throat until the shorter man had to stand on his tiptoes or be garrotted. Benedict attempted to push Draco away, only to have his fist trapped inside Draco's crushing grip. Draco's brow lowered as he hissed, "Have you ever been at the mercy of a Dark Wizard? Have you ever had Crucio performed on you for hours? Have you ever had it combined with Imperius, and massive doses of Veritaserum, and physical torture? You seem like you've led quite a sheltered life. Have you ever even been in battle?"

Benedict looked at Draco with hatred.

"Little man. I don't know what Harry went through when he was in Voldemort's hands. I can tell you this: you wouldn't have lasted five minutes before spilling your useless guts. Now, my name is Draco Malfoy. Perhaps you've heard the rumors about my father, and his Master. I assure you, they are all true. If you really, really think it's possible to remain silent when the Dark Lord wants you to speak, I would be more than happy to give you a small dose of their brand of persuasion. I am intimately familiar with their methods. Perhaps, after I subject you to a small dose of what Harry went through, you could teach us how to resist it. Such a…controlled demonstration for research purposes would be perfectly legal. Of course, that wouldn't make it any less real."

"Let me go! I am an agent of the United States Government! You can't do this!"

Melissa Kaufusi's voice suddenly cut through the room. No longer pleasant and amused, it was now sharp and curt, a voice of command.

"Enough. Draco, let him go. Benedict, stand up."

Draco released Benedict, who stood up, shakily.

Melissa drew her wand and faced him. She looked around at the room.

"If you'll excuse us."

She prodded Benedict with her wand into the kitchen. The group around Harry's bed could still hear her voice.

"You've embarrassed me, yourself, and the entire Department. I only brought you because Billy was ill and I owed your father a favor. I have had it with your stupidity!"

Benedict's voice, shrill and high pitched, came next.

"Did you see what he. . ."

"Enough. I don't have time for this. I can no longer trust your judgement. OBLIVIATE!"

A moment passed, then Melissa's voice was heard again. "It appears there is nothing to discuss here. Our British counterparts will not be able to make the meeting. I need you to take this Portkey and go back home. Do some paperwork; I'll be back later this week."

Benedict's response was disoriented. "Sure. Yeah. Okay."

A moment later, Melissa came back into the living room, and addressed a frowning Arthur Weasley.

"Minister, please, accept my apologies. I should have known that Benedict was not suited for this work. Hermione's message indicated I should come with haste, and he was all I had available at the moment. I've taken the liberty of wiping his memory of this meeting, and he will be dismissed from my office upon my return to the states."

Arthur nodded. "Quite all right, dear, we all know what it's like to have bad help sometimes."

Harry muttered glumly from his bed. "I don't know what everyone is upset about, he was right, wasn't he?"

Draco watched in amazement as the normally stern Amos Diggory stood up and grasped Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, my boy, no one here blames you. No one. I can't even imagine what you went through. I wish we didn't have to be here. I know you did your best, but all of us know that he could have broken any one of us, given enough time. We need to know what you told him, so we have to ask you, but we all – " at this, Diggory looked around the room – "love you, Harry, we are all proud of you for managing to escape despite what that monster did to you."

Draco and Ron tried not to look surprised. As leader of the Aurors, Diggory was not exactly known for his compassion. Ron remembered, though a conversation he had once had with the senior Auror. Another Auror had been killed, and it was suspected that his body was left as a trap. A debate had ensued as to whether lives should be risked to retrieve the corpse of the fallen Auror. Diggory had been silent during the debate, but when Harry single-handedly defeated the ambush that had been laid around the dead Auror, a grim faced Diggory had squelched the squabbling Aurors debating the wisdom of Harry's action with one sentence.

"I learned when he brought my Cedric back to me that Harry Potter can always, always, always be counted on to do the right thing."

Now, years later, Ron watched as the father who lost his son comforted the man who had had once been blamed for that loss. He was reminded once again that the chief of the Aurors was a complex man indeed.

Diggory's voice was almost tender, an abrupt change from its usual gruff tone.

"Harry. We need to know what happened."

Harry would not meet Diggory's eyes. "Not much to say. I was trying to unstrap, er, Tonya's parents from the plane and all of a sudden some wizard appeared. For a second I thought he was there to help, and then he attacked me. I don't know what happened after that, I woke up in a dark, damp room."

Ginny closed her eyes, and started stroking Harry's shoulder with her fingers.

"I knew what had happened, right away. They must have had a portkey or something to take me someplace with a magic-dampening field."

At this, Diggory ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure, Harry, was it one of ours."

Harry gave him a weak smile. "Yes. Felt just like the prototype."

Diggory looked at Arthur Weasley, who had a grim look. They understood the implications.

One of Arthur's first actions upon assuming office had been to commission one of the most intense Spellsearching projects ever attempted: the creation of a spell that could in itself prevent an individual from working magic. Neville Longbottom, at great Ministry expense and effort, had succeeded where generations of wizards and witches had failed.

Arthur's goal was simple – with the creation of a field that could prevent a person from performing any magic – even semi-controlled, primitive wandless magic – he could truly free the Wizarding World once and for all from need to cater to the Dementors.

The actual spells to create the field were a closely guarded secret. The Potter House and a few other places had a modified version incorporated into their wards. Now, it seemed that Voldemort had somehow stolen one of the Ministry's greatest secrets.

Harry resumed speaking. 'They…I didn't know…they did things."

His voice trailed off.

Ginny's fingers brushed across Harry's lips.

"You don't have to go into detail, Harry."

"I felt like I was dead. I wanted to die."

Hermione spoke up, her voice a monotone.

"You were dead, Harry."

All heads swiveled to her.

Harry managed a wry grin. "Now that I'm back, then, Hermione, are you going to try to convice me I'm really dead?"

"No, no…well, your body should have been dead, but you were kept alive by a spell."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Hermione, what potion is honeyshade essence commonly used in?"

All the men in the room, save Draco, looked baffled.

Draco looked at Ginny, and grimly intoned, "Five points to Gryffindor for knowing the right question to ask. The Draught of the Living Death."

Ron shook his head. "No, no, you're not fooling us, Draco, the Draught of the Living Death puts someone in a deathlike trance. Harry was alive and tortured."

Draco didn't bother to rebut Ron; he figured he'd let Ron's wife do the honors. True to form, Hermione didn't disappoint.

"Oh, Ron, I cannot believe you made it into NEWT potions!" The common Draught is a simple potion. Harry was dosed with the Egyptian potion that carries the same name and is much more difficult to brew!"

Harry looked even more confused than Ron.

"Let me get this straight: there are TWO potions called the Draught of the Living Death? And they do different things?"

Ginny's voice was soft. "Very different."

Melissa Kaufusi looked at Draco.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy? Care to enlighten us?"

Draco assumed his best Snape-like voice.

"The ancient Egyptians were rather obsessed with death. They created a potion that allows a person's body to fail – whether by torture or illness or injury – beyond that point where death would normally occur. The potion is made using the blood of a Life-Giver, who must give the blood willingly. The potion is administered to the recipient, who, instead of dying when their body can no longer function, draws upon the life-force and energy of the Life-Giver, who is subsequently weakened in return."

A tear ran down Ginny's cheek. "That's why his heart stopped so many times that night."

Harry's eyes were wide. "I was really dead?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not quite. Your body was unable to support your life, but you were kept alive by the spell. The Draught is used, well, it's quite unspeakable, but…"

Draco interrupted curtly. "It is ideal for keeping a prisoner alive, for you can torture him literally past the point of death, and in the incredibly unlikely even the prisoner escapes, the captor merely needs to kill the Life-Giver. As the Life-Giver dies, the prisoner dies as well, as he can no longer draw upon the life-force of the donor."

Disgust showed on Harry's face.

"That bastard made me some kind of parasite?"

Draco nodded. "In a sense. The Life-Giver was most likely a junior Death Eater trying to prove himself. When you escaped, Voldemort most likely killed the Life-Giver as soon as he could. The Muggle resuscitation equipment kept you alive long enough for the Healers to stabilize you and repair your body to the point of being able to sustain life."

Harry's face dropped back into confusion. "But WHY? WHY NOT JUST KILL ME?"

Draco looked at his friend, whose voice had raised to a shout. His soft voice was a contract to Harry's agitated speech.

"I don't know, but I'd be willing to wager Hermione does. And I go even further and guess that's why our American guest is here."

Draco bowed his head slightly at Melissa Kaufasi as he ended his sentence.

Hermione looked at the flaw. "Voldemort decided to follow in the footsteps of Grindelwald and try to start a Muggle war. The only problem was that he needed Harry alive to do it."

Ginny's grip tightened on Harry's shoulder, as Harry stared at the wall behind Hermione.

No one present had ever seen Harry look so lost.


	23. Cry Havoc

Chapter 23 – Cry Havoc

"This doesn't make sense. We all thought that Harry was the only one who could kill Voldemort. And yet since Harry, er, disappeared, Voldemort has been practically invisible. Why the bloody hell would that nutter keep Harry alive?"

A quick glance around the room revealed that everyone agreed with what Ron had just said. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Voldemort's coming out of the closet."

Ron's face darkened, and he slammed his fist into his hand.

"I knew it! I knew there was something not right about him! He likes blokes!"

Harry's lost look was replaced by a grimace as he attempted to choke back laughter. Draco merely rolled his eyes. The rest of the group merely looked befuddled.

"No, no, no, for God's sake, Ron, Voldemort is not GAY. Well, I don't think he is. I meant that he's dropped the whole "purity of blood" spiel and is actually using Muggles to do his dirty work – he's no longer pretending to lead a crusade to rid the world of impure blood, he's basically making a power grab, and he'll say anything – and use anybody – that will help him."

Hermione's words brought a frown to Ron's face. She knew that Ron's obsession with Voldemort's sex life – or lack thereof – wasn't a relic of some juvenile immaturity, but rather a question that Ron had been asking himself for some time. Ron had already once dealt a blow to Voldemort by asking where the money came from – if Voldemort actually had a sex life, perhaps knowledge of that could be used to set a trap.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Perhaps, Hermione, you should explain a bit more about what you do in the Department."

Draco tried to keep a bored expression on his face, as he'd been dying to find out what Hermione had been up to ever since she left the Aurors.

"Yes, Minister. As most you know, I am an Unspeakable with the Department of Mysteries. We are usually quite discreet about our work. Some of us study obscure Dark spells, some study time travel and some –" at this, she shot a quick apologetic glance at Harry, who maintained a stoic look on his face, "- study death itself. My area of expertise is detecting Magical influence in the Muggle world."

Comprehension dawned on Melissa's face. "The British version of our Office of Muggle Integrity?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, quite the same duties, although your OMI has far more resources at its disposal than we do."

Arthur's voice was mild, although he gave Tonya a fond glance.

"An oversight I am working to remedy."

Draco said, "Office of Muggle Integrity? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

Tonya shot him a dirty look, but her voice was calm. "I know you're teasing me, Draco, but it's very serious. Hermione's division and the OMI work to prevent wizards from unjustly enriching themselves or tampering with the Muggle world."

Melissa spoke up. "Yes, the OMI has three divisions, the Business Affairs Division, the Government Division, and the Gaming and Sports Division. The Business division makes sure that wizards don't manipulate the stock market or unfairly manipulate unsuspecting Muggles in business deals, the Government division prevents wizards from interfering, well, with the government and politics, and Gaming and Sports...well, they're just huge."

Hermione finished the description. "The American Gaming and Sports Division of the OMI and part of my own group here in England are tasked with making sure that wizards don't cheat at gambling or rig sporting events in the Muggle world. The Business Division of the OMI is in New York, the Government Division is in Washington DC and Denver, and the Gaming and Sports division is in Las Vegas, Atlantic City and Poughkeepsie, Ohio."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Why the hell would your department maintain an office like that in a town no one has ever heard of?"

Melissa had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed. "The Senator from Ohio is a wizard and refused to pass the appropriation for the OMI one year unless his state got something out of it."

Hermione continued.

"The American OMI has specialists in each branch, we don't have their resources so my group actually does all three fields."

Draco snorted. "I'm so glad everyone is working so hard to keep the Muggles safe. It must cost a fortune. What about the media? Who's looking out for the news and entertainment industry?"

Melissa smiled. "No one, actually. Magical interference is actually encouraged in Hollywood; the goblins actually do the accounting for most of the big studios. And you don't think George Lucas picked the name "Industrial Light and Magic" off of the top of his head, do you?"

Draco's head swiveled to Hermione. "And here in England?"

She shrugged. "Richard Branson, Hogwarts Class of 1967, Head Boy, somehow he took classes both at Hogwarts and in the Muggle world at the same time. He actually puts on a glamour when he's about the Muggle public to make him look his age in Muggle years."

Arthur cleared his throat again, bringing Hermione back on track.

"Sorry, Arthur. Yes, well, when we do our job right, we prevent bad things from happening. Like the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. The successful resolution of that was a joint effort between my group, the American OMI and the Russian KBN – that's Committee for Magical Interests."

Draco's grinned at Hermione.

"And when your group buggers things up?"

"I don't think it takes any great leaps of brilliance to figure out why Grindelwald's Reign of Terror coincided precisely with World War II."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed, Draco. It's deadly serious work."

Arthur gently steered Hermione back on track.

"And Harry fits into this..."

"Oh! Yes. Well, we're all familiar with Imperius, right?"

Hermione's statement was greeted with nods and murmurs.

"The Imperius curse allows the caster to control the actions of a person. Voldemort has come up with something new – a variant of the Imperius, that when combined with a potion allows the caster to control many people at once, and from thousands of kilometers away."

Ron looked shellshocked. "How the hell can that work? How can one person keep all those thoughts at one time? Wouldn't their mind crack under the confusion."

Hermione shook her head. "It's terribly complex. There's a heavy Arithimantic element to it, there's temporal spirit displacement involved, it makes my head spin. The important thing, as far as Harry is concerned, is that like many Dark Arts spells, there's a requirement for blood."

Harry brought his hand to his face.

"Let me guess. The supplementary potion requires the blood of an enemy, and the stronger the enemy, the better."

"Right in one." Hermione's voice was grim.

"Gee, why am I not surprised? I swear, that bastard has taken so much of my blood I'm beginning to think he's part vampire." Harry's tone was even more sarcastic than usual.

"Actually..." Hermione started to speak hesitantly, as Harry raised a hand.

"Don't. Please, don't."

Ron slammed his fist in his hand again, shouting.

"I KNEW IT! YOU-KNOW-WHO IS PART VAMPIRE! THAT'S WHY I CAN"T FIND OUT ANYTHING ABOUT HIS SEXUAL NEEDS! BLOOD SUCKERS DON'T SHAG!"

Hermione actually giggled, which was a welcome relief of the somber mood in the room.

"Honestly, Ron, no, he is NOT part vampire, although he did delve deep into vampire lore and consorted with them as part of his quest for immortality, and his name is VOLDEMORT, not You-Know-Whatsis."

Tonya piped up. "Tom Riddle"

Draco smiled at Tonya. "Tommy boy."

Ginny, who had been quiet for so long, snarled, "Can we PLEASE not talk about his name like that?"

Tom...

Draco paled, and watched as Harry held Ginny's hand tightly.

_Once upon a time, Tom was my only friend._

"Damn. Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It's old news, Draco, sorry, I'm just irritable. It's been a tough couple of weeks."

Draco wanted to go to Ginny, touch her, comfort her.

_No. She has a husband for that again._

Melissa broke the silence.

"So, Hermione, what does all this mean? Who does your Voldemort want to control?"

"He's not just our Voldemort now, he's gone global."

"Explain."

"He's been manipulating offshore shell companies, raising money through over the counter trading and currency exchange, avoiding raising OMI arms. More importantly, he's been researching the US government, specifically the Constitution and contemporary civil defense documents. He's also been slowly infiltrating the Indian and Pakistani governments."

Melissa shook her head. "Shit, shit, shit. We don't have much contact with the magical communities in India and Pakistan. I can have the OMI fix the other stuff. But I assure you, there is no way Voldemort could breech the protections around Congress or the Presidency."

"He doesn't have to. He's got a Cabinet secretary."

Melissa frowned. "That's bad. That's really bad, but controllable."

Hermione gave a grim smile. "He's been studying food distribution logistics."

"That's an odd thing for a Dark Wizard to concern himself with."

Ron started taking deep breaths.

Hermione continued. "There are Death Eaters stationed in New Mexico, the Ukraine, Nanjing, Jerusalem, Pyongyang and Pasadena, California."

Ron started muttering, "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Melissa looked very confused. "Pasadena?"

Hermione decided to deliver the coup de grace.

"He was planning something big on January 15th of next year."

_Click._

Melissa turned pale. "Chaos."

Hermione nodded. "Quite."

Draco was quite perturbed that Ron seemed to have a better idea than he did about what Hermione was talking about. He was about to ask Hermione to clarify when Amos Diggory spoke.

"Hermione, if it wouldn't be too much to get you to break that down into English..."

"I've studied notes, directions, and the records on the computer in Voldemort's hideout. I've seen the books he as studying, and figured out what he's up to. We are all familiar with Muggle nuclear weapons, right?"

Arthur shook his head sadly. "The Prime Minister is going to be most upset."

Hermione looked at Arthur. "Not just the Prime Minister. The security protocols – both Muggle and Magical – around nuclear weapons are too tight for Voldemort to breach."

No one had to say the word "but." It hung in the air.

Draco gestured with his hand – _well, finish!_

"Pyongyang is the capital of North Korea, and has a bitter rivalry with its neighbor to the South. They also have recently developed nuclear weapons, as have India and Pakistan, which are traditional enemies. None of these countries have the elaborate safeguards built up to secure the weapons that the more traditional countries have."

"It gets worse"

"Nanjing is a primary source of food for China. That's over a billion people. Ukraine feeds Russia. Both export heavily as well. Electro-magnetic pulse weapons are being developed in Los Alamos, New Mexico and at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena. They disrupt Muggle electronics and communication devices. We all know about the sheer magical power in Jerusalem, not to mention the fact that it's a powderkeg waiting to go off in the Muggle world. Israel also has nuclear weapons, although their security protocols are most likely pretty good so I wouldn't worry about that."

Harry absorbed that. "Let me guess, it still gets worse."

"Yes, indeed. The US President is constitutionally required to address the government on the status of the country once a year – it's called the State of the Union address. Traditionally, all the high government officials of the US government gather in one building during the event. To prevent a break in the continuation of government in the event that the capital is, er, "taken out" during the speech, one solitary member of the President's board of advisors – his "Cabinet" – is kept out of the capital, in a secure, hidden location far away."

Ron interrupted. "Voldemort wants to shatter the Muggle world into a disorganized mess."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Nuclear weapons are too complex; you can't just put someone under Imperius and order them to bomb their own country. But the protocols on the EMP weapons are more easily controlled, and although it's best to detonate them from orbit, if you take them in an aeroplane high enough you can get a similar effect. And it's a lot easier to use Imperio to control a pilot than it is to get a technician to try to reprogram a targeting package..."

Arthur was nodding. "I see. You know what the plan is, then?"

"I know what it was. Harry's escape ruined everything. Without the boosted Imperius potion Voldemort was using, he can't keep all the balls in the air at once – he was fearful of distributing too much responsibility amongst his inner cadre of Death Eaters, for he still needed them and he felt that delving too much into Muggle technology would alienate the pureblood true-believers. Voldemort tried to control too much of it at once, and without Harry's power and blood, he can no longer pull it off."

Melissa had regained some of her color, but was still visibly upset.

"What was the plan, Hermione?"

"You have to understand, some of this is extrapolated from population curves, birth rate info, and the like that I found-"

"Yes, yes, we know it's not gospel, but a broad outline."

Hermione took a deep breath.

"In a single twenty-four hour period, Voldemort was going to strike at the American capital, destroy the entire upper level of the government and turn all American Muggle power over to his puppet Cabinet officer. Such a blow would also kill the leaders of the American Magical world, as they also attend the state of the union address."

"Within a matter of hours, he would also start nuclear conflicts in the Middle East, Asia by way of North Korea, and between India and Pakistan."

"The world would be in chaos. He would then use a selection of his seized electro-magnetic pulse weapons in aircraft to disrupt Muggle communications worldwide – although his American puppet would still have hardened communications resistant to the pulse. In short, his American puppet would have the only reliable communication in the Muggle world, other than the Russians, who have a similar capability. Of course, the Russians would be too busy starving to help the rest of the world, because of what Voldemort planned next."

"Shortly thereafter, he would cause some sort of event in Nanjing and the Ukraine, and I suspect the American mid-west as well, destroying the vast majority of food supplies in the world."

"In short, the Muggle world would be in complete and total disarray, unable to communicate or feed itself."

"It's clear from the figures I've found that Voldemort doesn't want to exterminate the Muggle world. He's smart enough to know that they still make a majority of the products we use and the food we eat. He knows we need the Muggles."

"But in Voldemort's eyes, there are way too many of them, and they are not obedient enough. I'm pretty sure I have the figures right."

Hermione paused to shuffle through some papers.

"Yes. Yes, I was right. Through starvation and execution, Voldemort projected that he could reduce the Muggle population down to one-twentieth of its current number, and maintain that number of slaves and workers indefinitely through an organized program of female sterilization."

Arthur was aghast.

"Surely there were plans for Wizarding resistance? He didn't expect the wizarding governments of the world to roll over, did he?"

"Actually, yes, he did. Statements had already been prepared condemning the irresponsibility of the Muggles in destroying their own world. He was going to make it look like the Muggles had done it to themselves, taking a good number of wizards and witches with them. The starvation and associated diseases, along with the disruption of life – well, it would increase anger against Muggles greatly. He would then appear as the great Muggle savior, painting the Muggles as barbaric but necessary beasts who need a firm hand to control them. He would also posture himself as a humanitarian, saying that even Muggles deserve a certain standard of life and using his resources to feed the starving and diseased masses. As the bringer of food and medical care, the Muggles would accept Voldemort as their ruler. How would anyone really be able to argue with him? If the Muggles blew up the world, and only Voldemort seemed to know how to save the few that were left, who would really be able to stop him?"

Tonya was ashen – for the first time, she realized that to Voldemort, she was closer to being cattle than being human.

Hermione gave Harry a wan smile.

"Voldemort was going to kill eighty-five percent of the world's Muggles, and the only thing that stopped him was you making a wand out of the feathers of your dead owl and escaping."

Tears started running down Harry's face as he turned to Ginny.

"I can't handle this. I think...I think I want to see my children now. I don't want to wait any longer."

As if by unspoken consent, everyone else filtered out of the room silently, leaving Harry gently sobbing in Ginny's arms.


	24. Conversations With Lucius

Chapter 24 - Conversations With Lucius

Draco was sitting in his study at Malfoy Manor, trying to lose himself in a novel. He found the story intriguing, but was having a bit of trouble staying focused as he had already drained three glasses of brandy and was working on number four.

He had made a most difficult choice earlier; he had decided to leave the Potter house before Sirius and Elizabeth were brought from the Burrow. He told himself that he had done the right thing; he didn't need to confuse the children by being present at their reunion with their long lost father – they didn't need two father figures at this moment in their lives.

Draco had no doubt that he had become like a father to the children – especially Sirius. He also knew that in some ways, he had been reliving a second chance to remedy the errors of his youth. Playing with the young Sirius Potter, so strikingly reminiscent of Harry, sometimes allowed Draco to think about what would have happened had he chosen his words more carefully when he was eleven. For one thing, he would have not immediately alienated the young, baffled yet fiercely loyal Harry Potter.

Four years of friendship with Harry before his death – disappearance – had convinced Draco that he had wasted a lot of time. He knew he couldn't change the past, but one night when Harry had been very drunk indeed he had confided in Draco that the Sorting Hat had almost put him in Slytherin – but between Hagrid's prejudices and Draco's poisonous attitude Harry had decided to reject the Hat's first inclination.

How would Draco's life have been different if Harry had been in Slythern?

_We would have been friends. I would have been a Chaser, and Harry and I would have led Slytherin to glory on the Quidditch pitch. Of course, father would most likely have murdered Harry on one of our holidays, so I guess it's for the best._

_I really shouldn't drink when I'm depressed. Makes me morbid._

Draco was having second thoughts about not being at the Potter house for the children.

_They're going to be upset. They're going to need me, if for no other reason then to reassure them that it's okay to be with their father, they're not betraying me by loving him._

_Ginny might need me._

_Ginny._

"God DAMN it!"

Draco through the glass against the wall as hard as he could, taking pleasure from the shattering sound in the silent room.

The portrait of Julius Malfoy (First Inquisitor of the Order of Blood, 1655-1769) lifted an eyebrow and remarked, "Strange, young Draco, I didn't think that book was that bad."

Draco's head swiveled to the portrait. He gave a barkish laugh – almost a snort – and then spoke.

"And how would you know, since you died two hundred years before that book was even published?"

"Your aunt Melinda was painted with a copy of that book. She was good enough to loan it to me. It does get rather dull in here, with you away so often rather than fathering the next generation of Malfoys and ensuring the continuation of our noble line."

"I never thought you would get on well with Aunt Melinda."

Melinda Malfoy had been Lucius Malfoy's sister, and a friend of Narcissa. She had perished during the First Voldemort War. She had committed the cardinal sin of getting impregnated by a Muggle, and then attempting to flee with the oblivious man. Draco had once opened a trunk in the attic to see pictures of a vivacious, happy girl in her twenties dressed in 1970's style Muggle clothes. He had never known whom it was until shortly after Lucius had left the Manor after the murder of Jennifer DePorter.

Narcissa had removed the portrait from storage and hung it without a word. Apparently, Julius Malfoy and Melinda Malfoy – or at least their painted images – had become friends.

Strange, since the role of the First Inquisitor in the 17th century had been to ensure the integrity of Pureblood marriage unions.

Draco voiced this thought to the portrait.

Julius Malfoy shrugged – quite a sight to see considering his flamboyant seventeenth century clothes had some sort of giant hoops on the shoulder.

"It's the twenty-first century, young Draco. Doesn't do to dwell on the past, especially if you're long dead. Besides, I suppose I must adjust if Lady Tonya continues to visit here."

_Lady Tonya?_

Seeing as how Draco couldn't go out in public with Tonya Bellingham – after all, he was supposed to be madly in love with Ginny Potter – she had spent quite a bit of time at the Manor.

Draco didn't usually bring women back to the Manor, and apparently the portraits had drawn their own conclusions.

_Thank God I never brought Ginny here. Seeing Ginny here, in my house, could have led to something very unfortunate in light of current events._

"So, Julius, should I call Tonya tonight?"

"I would not advise it, for prior to marriage a woman should not be privy to a man in an agitated or irritable state. A gentleman must appear at all times to be reserved and not show the baser emotions to those outside the family, for a prospective bride might fear that such weakness of character could possibly be manifest in the offspring of the union."

Draco actually smiled once he digested the portrait's convoluted advice.

"Hey, Julie, baby, it's the twenty-first century, as you are so fond of reminding me, don't be so politically incorrect."

Much to Draco's amusement, the portrait took no offense to his irreverent tone.

"If your atrocious butchery of my proper name is an attempt to offend me, I must inform you that it takes far more than that to disturb my state of mind. Now, I must leave, as I intend to call on your lovely aunt Melinda. And, to be frank, I know you would not be so foolish as to address me as "Julie" again since we portraits tend to look out for each other and I'm sure you would not care to be addressed by every painting in the Manor as "Drakie" the next time Lady Tonya calls."

"What's this "Lady Tonya" bollocks, anyhow?"

"She is a Bellingham, is she not?"

"She's not one of those Bellinghams, she's a Muggle."

"Indeed? Fascinating. She has the classical features of the Bellinghams, most notably the fine nose. Usually such a good indicator of proper breeding. A pity. I had such high hopes. And she, unlike the young man of the Manor, knows how to carry herself."

"Go mix paint with my dead aunt, you deluded old fart."

The figure of Julius Malfoy gave his descendant a roguish wink and walked briskly out of his painting.

Draco slumped back down in his chair, smiling. He remembered being a young boy, talking endlessly with the fascinating paintings that adorned the house.

_You're getting better. It's been almost ten minutes since you thought of Ginny._

Draco tried to ignore the voice in his head and decided to Floo over to Tonya's flat. He stood up and was walking to the fireplace when the door to his study opened.

Draco spun around, wand at the ready. His mind cleared and he felt instantly sober. His mother never entered his study without knocking. He was prepared to utter a curse before he realized it was his mother after all.

"Mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy was pale, brittle.

"There's an owl in the foyer. I believe it is from your father."

Draco sheathed his wand and strode out of the study, his mother at his heels, without a word.

_This day just keeps getting better and better._

Sure enough, Cortez, Lucius Malfoy's personal owl, was waiting for Draco in the foyer. He surveyed Draco with an imperial eye as Draco removed the letter, and took flight as soon as the letter was free.

The letter was brief.

_My son,_

_I respectfully request the honor of your presence under a flag of truce at noon tomorrow in the Merlin room of the Crystal Chalice. You have my word as both a wizard and a Malfoy that no harm shall come to you and that I have no ulterior motive or design._

_Most sincerely yours,_

_Your Father_

Draco mutely handed the parchment to his mother. Her eyes widened as she read it.

Draco idly said, "You know, I'm going to have to write a contact report for Amos if I go to this bloody thing."

The next day, Draco Apparated to the Crystal Chalice alone from the Ministry.

Amos Diggory had not been pleased, but he had no choice but to honor the meeting under truce. Neither Draco nor Amos could figure out if Lucius was acting for Voldemort or himself in requesting the meeting.

The thought that Lucius may have just wanted to see his son instead of using him as a conduit to the Ministry never occurred to them – although it had occurred to Narcissa, who had given Draco a small package to give to Lucius, "if it seems appropriate, dear."

The head waiter was obviously nervous as he greeted Draco.

"Your father, sir, he's waiting. I assure you, we had no idea he was coming, he reserved the entire room under a different name. He assures us his presence here will not cause problems with the Ministry, but sir, as you are an Auror…"

Draco waved a hand.

"It's no problem, Grant, everything's taken care of. As usual, though, I expect your discretion in this."

Draco Disillusioned himself and felt the breaking egg sensation run down his body before he followed the head waited to the Merlin room. It wouldn't do to have the diners notice he was here.

Draco walked into the large room and faced his father for the first time since Lucius had been a party to the murder of the woman Draco loved.

Strangely, Draco was beyond anger. He was just tired.

More than anything, he wanted to go home and sleep.

Lucius stood and appraised his son.

"Come, sit with me at the table."

Draco followed his father's instructions and automatically unfolded the napkin and put it in his lap – but only after verifying that Lucius' wand was nowhere in sight.

They sat in silence for almost a minute, staring at each other for Lucius spoke again, almost in a whisper.

"It has been so long since I've seen you, my son."

"Yes, murdering my girlfriend on the orders of a psychopathic madman does cast rather a damper on the prospect of family reunions, doesn't it, Father?"

Draco hadn't meant to be combative, but his mouth seemed to speak of its own accord.

Lucius showed no reaction to Draco's words, at first. It took Draco a moment to realize what he was seeing, as he had never seen anything like it before.

Slowly, almost invisibly, a tiny tear was leaking from the corner of Lucius' right eye and running down his aristocratic nose.

Lucius spoke in a low tone.

"Surely, Draco, if you intend to catalog my failings as a father, you might find it easier to start at the beginning and work your way up from your birth."

_Who is this man and what has he done with Lucius Malfoy?_

"Down to business, father. Why did you call this meeting? I assume you have something to communicate to the Minstry."

"No."

"Then why are we here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No, it's not."

"I wanted to see my son."

Draco's response was flat.

"When last we met, you made it clear that you had no son."

Lucius took a deep breath. "I cannot make amends. I cannot change the past. Our course is set, and is unalterable. But…"

Lucius' eyes narrowed, and darted to Draco's hands – left, then right.

His eyes bored into Draco's.

Abruptly, a look of relief – almost happiness – spread across Lucius' face.

"You've done it. You've deceived the Dark Lord."

Draco felt the pangs of alarm welling up in him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do."

_Shit. I wasn't careful enough. I was careless._

_Ginny's going to kill me. I've blown everything._

"You are no more suffering from Kyrene's than I am. The hand tremors, the pinkish tinge to the eyes. All absent, when you are supposedly in second or third stage. Do you know what this means to me?"

Draco knew there was no point in lying or trying to deny anything to his father.

"You get to be rewarded by your Master for bringing him intelligence gleaned from a stupid Auror?"

"No, it means my son is going to live."

"I wouldn't have thought that was major concern of yours."

"It is one of my only true concerns, now."

Draco studied his father. There was no sign of deception; his father was being more frank and open than he had ever been.

Draco realized that at that moment, he was no longer thinking of the murder of Jennifer DePorter or of his fellow Aurors who had fallen at his father's hand.

He was not thinking of the near-death of Ginny Weasley in her second year.

At that moment, he was thinking of his father.

His first ride on a broom, he had flown too high and fallen, and his father had just barely levitated him in time. Draco had expected a harsh punishment, but instead his father had clutched him tight and murmured "don't ever scare me like that again."

His father, ordering the house elves that five-year-old Draco should have all the bacon he could possibly want on his birthday.

His father walking down the halls of the Ministry, nods of respect from everyone he encountered, seven year old Draco following behind.

"_This is my son, Draco. I expect him to do great things someday."_

Eight year old Draco, sneaking out of his bedroom one night to find his father dancing a waltz with his mother – without music – in the ballroom. Lucius had stopped when he saw Draco, and gestured him to come closer. Draco had thought he would be in trouble, but instead his father had made room for him between himself and his wife and continued the dance.

Lucius Malfoy, standing with the Minister at St. Mungo's, as Fudge bowed and scraped before the elder Malfoy. They had watched as a five year old girl took fumbling, halting steps forward with a huge grin on her face.

"_Without your donation, Lucius, that girl would still denied the use of her legs."_

Lucius Malfoy had never been a pillar of compassion and understanding – but for precisely that reason, at that moment, all of the little – all too few – good moments Draco had experienced with his father over the years came rushing back.

_God help me, I still love the murdering bastard._

Perhaps it was that sudden revelation that made Draco speak next.

"Come to us, Father. Surely, with what you know, arrangements can be made, a new life, perhaps…" Draco's voice trailed off as Lucius slowly shook his head.

"Oh, Draco, surely you realize the futility of that? It's literally impossible. My course is set. I've made my choices, and now I have to live with them. I belong to the Dark Lord until the release of death."

"There must be some way, you still have a choice, Father."

"No, I don't. You must realize that after the truth about Severus became known the Dark Lord would use his powers and enchantments to make sure that none of the Inner Circle could ever betray him again. Besides, for too long, I benefited from the power of the Dark Lord. Now, I must pay the price. I enjoyed my power, and never realized it would cost me my wife and son. My life has lost its purpose, but I will not be a slinking spy like Severus, or spend my days hiding from the wrath of a betrayed Master or should Potter finally get around to defeating him, my former associates."

"I'll thank you not to refer to my godfather as a "slinking spy", father."

Lucius waved his hand in a gesture of agreement. "Of course. I spoke harshly. How is Serverus, by the way?"

"Quite well. He was a bit disturbed by your behavior the night Potter came back to us. Said your demeanor was rather odd."

Lucius smiled. "Ah, Severus. I was so angry when I found out how he had betrayed us. Later, the anger turned to jealousy. Only Severus could dance with the devil and find refuge with the angels. But you're right. He is your godfather, and deserves respect. Respect."

Lucius paused, and then fixed Draco with his eyes.

"Respect, Draco. It is important for a Malfoy to live, and die, with respect. I respect Severus for what he has done. He, more than anyone, knows what the Dark Lord is capable of, and yet did what he believed in. He saw the truth before I did, and chose accordingly. I'm under no illusions, Draco. I don't care that oh-so-noble Arthur has sent the Dementors away, I'm not going back to Azkaban – ever. If I fall for the cause I've chosen, I hope it is to someone like Severus and not some bright-eyed group of Aurors – at least Severus understands the old ways. Do you understand me, Draco?"

Draco felt a chill grip his heart.

_My father has just told me that he fully expects to lose, in the end, and expects to die in the process. And if I understand him correctly, he wants Snape to kill him._

"If your cause is doomed, father, why not save yourself?"

Lucius shook his head.

"Were I younger, with a family and a future, I might consider it. But now…"

Draco swallowed.

"You could perhaps, have a family again…you still have a wife and son. You are young by wizard standards…"

"Come now, Draco, Narcissa is my wife in name only, I don't know why she doesn't drop this farce and divorce me."

"She still loves you. You forced her to choose between her husband and her son. She made her choice, but she still loves you."

"As I will love her, until my dying day. But some damage cannot be undone. When I left you in the hands of my Master, I dealt a death blow to my marriage. Tell me, Draco, no lies, why does she not divorce me? And no tripe about love. She may love me, but I know she could never let me truly be her husband again after what I've done."

Draco sighed. "You want the truth? She wants to know that she has legal standing to intercede with the Ministry to help you if you are captured, or legally claim your body if you are killed. She doesn't want to see you suffer or wind up in a pauper's grave. Estrangement or no estrangement, she is still Narcissa Malfoy and will still defend her husband if need be."

"You could do all of those things, as my son, if need be."

"She views it as a matter of blood honor. And, tripe or not, she loves you."

"Tell her…tell her she is still young, and not to waste herself."

"You're being unusually selfless today, father."

"When I was young, I saw filthy, dirty Muggleborns – and I mean dirty, this was the nineteen-sixties and seventies – running amuck, questioning everything, spitting on all I was raised to hold dear. They had no discipline, no history, they had raw power but no idea how to properly use it. They disgusted me. And then the Dark Lord came along, and promised a return to order, to structure, to respect."

"That was twenty or thirty years ago. And what do we have now? I'll tell you, Draco."

Lucius took a deep breath, and spoke in a low, furious tone.

'I see a war that has seen my side kill more purebloods than Muggleborns. I see that what I thought was a war to restore honor to our world is nothing more than a half-blood's quest for power and immortality. And the final proof is what your friend Hermione has undoubtedly figured out by now."

Draco remained mute.

"Oh, come now, Draco, I'm sure I'm not betraying any secrets of the Dark Lord when I tell you that he is so up to his bloody arse in Muggle finance and government that it is clear we are all tools to him. Muggles, wizards, we are all just pawns in his game."

Draco smiled at his father. "Hermione's really not that bad when you get to know her, father."

Lucius Malfoy actually snorted. "Not that bad? You get to work with that brilliant, logical human computer and what does the Dark Lord give me to work with? Bellatrix Fucking Lestrange. One of my roles is to be a "moderating influence" on Bella's more bizarre tendencies. Do you know just how bloody difficult that is?"

Draco laughed. "Really, father, you shouldn't speak so ill of your sister-in-law."

Lucius laughed too. "How long has it been, Draco, since you and I laughed together?"

"We never have."

"Nonsense. What about when you were eight and I levitated that Muggle girl up to the top of a light post so she couldn't get down?"

"I'm sorry, father, my august position as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic prevents me from acknowledging that I could ever find anything humorous in such an obvious case of Muggle-baiting."

It actually had been rather funny. Lucius had hoped to terrify the Muggle girl (who had been about twenty or so) by stranding her 30 meters or so in the air, and instead had been treated to a truly obscene barrage of profanity delivered in a delightfully trashy Cockney accent. She didn't seem to be intimidated in the least by the wand waving Lucius Malfoy, who had been so shocked that he had started laughing, followed by Draco who had never heard such naughty words before. The final straw had been when she had started through trash from her purse at Lucius, finally taking off her bra and throwing it down where it landed on Lucius Malfoy's head.

He had been too stunned to even think about using Avada Kedavra on her for that insult.

"Hermione Weasley, Draco. Quite a brilliant witch."

"Yes, she is."

"Quite brilliant indeed. I especially enjoyed reading the results of her research on Haitian necromonic arts in the Journal of the Magical Documentation Associates.

Lucius locked eyes with Draco.

"Fascinating woman, Hermione. Fascinating article. It took me too long to understand that perhaps you made good choices in your taste in friends. I haven't said how sorry I am about Jennifer DePorter. Time has taught me that. It was truly a mistake not to arrange a decent burial for her."

Draco's long-standing anger with his father returned in a flash.

"After mother kicked you out of the Manor, I returned to try to find her body. We never found it. I assume you disposed of the evidence so as not to give the Ministry any more ammunition against you."

"As I said, a pity she never received a decent burial. Have you talked with your friends about it? Hermione, especially, with her background, should understand how important it is to properly mourn the dead."

Lucius Malfoy gave a short cough and a sneeze, and dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief. He idly looked at a spot of blood on the white fabric before tucking it away in his robes.

"Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, father?"

"Not at all. I am just sorry that my choices have made life so difficult for you, and I'm glad you have people like Hermione to talk it over with."

_What the hell is my father trying to tell me?_

"So, despite her impure blood, you think Hermione is a worthy person for me to confide in?"

Lucius stared up at the ceiling.

"Ah, how do I answer that?"

Lucius looked Draco right in the eyes – the intensity of his stare was belied by the casual tone of his voice.

"Serving a half-blood like the Dark Lord has been most educational. I find that I grow weary of this never-ending war, and I would be a fool not to realize that we are doing far more harm to wizarding culture than your little alliance of mongrels, half-breeds and Mudbloods. I've read Hermione Weasley's published works; she has an intuitive grasp of the importance of maintaining old traditions and her respect for wizarding culture and her historical awareness dwarfs that of most of the cretins I am forced to work with. Her ridiculous views on House Elves aside, she is obviously brilliant and has a deep respect for her heritage – and by that I mean the magical world. She has earned the right to consider herself one of us. I am forced to concede that perhaps it would have been better – and far more advantageous – to choose differently so many years ago. However, my choice was made, and my course is set."

"Why, father, if you know you made a mistake, why not change?"

"Nothing is that easy, Draco. I will say this. It…pleases me to see what you have built for yourself. The name Malfoy is once again feared and respected, as it should be. You have chosen well, and surrounded yourself with solid people who will have been and will continue to be of great value to you."

Draco smirked at his father. "Feared?"

"Yes, indeed, feared. I breach no confidences to say to you that it is commonly recognized that you are a wizard of singular power, and most of my associates make no secret that out of all of the agents of the Ministry, you are the one they least want to come across. Even with Potter back in the picture."

Draco snorted. "So, I finally beat Potter in something?"

"Yes. Potter may – and I do say may – have more raw power than you, but you are, after all, a Malfoy, and there are those who feel they are far more likely to suffer at your hands than at Potter's. Of course, that may change – Potter's experiences as a guest of the Dark Lord may induce him to a rather depraved sort of vengeance once he's back in the field."

Draco observed wryly, "Harry sure isn't too happy with what he's been through the past two years."

"As well he shouldn't be. Still, he is most fortunate. It was the height of foolishness for the Dark Lord to keep him alive."

"Harry said that you were…I don't know…well, let's just say he didn't mind it when you came to visit."

Lucius shrugged. "As I said, it was a strategic blunder of the highest order not to kill Potter when he was defenseless. However, once the Dark Lord made up his mind, I saw no reason for unnecessary torture. Potter is a most worthy adversary, and a wizard who deserves respect. He may be a half-blood, but he would have been right at home in the days of old when honor was as important as survival. A most insightful young man; my discussions with him were often rather pleasant diversions on difficult days. If he succeeds in besting the Dark Lord you would do well to use him as an advisor rather than an Auror when you become Minister yourself."

Draco taking a sip of wine as Lucius was speaking, and it was all he could do not to choke.

"Excuse me? Me, Minister of Magic? Father, where did THAT come from?"

Lucius waved a hand idly in the air. "It would seem to be the obvious course. Arthur Weasley is doing a far more competent job than I would have ever dreamed, but it is obvious that he is a wartime leader who will want to flee to the country and his hovel as soon as the war is over, perhaps to produce yet more offspring with that breeding machine he calls a wife. If that happens soon, Amos Diggory will be the most likely successor. If it happens later, you will be."

"The "breeding machine" has a name, Father – and I would recommend you show respect for Molly Weasley in my presence."

"Of course. Old habits die hard. She strikes me as the most common type – but I suppose there must be more to her than meets the eye if she has managed to raise so many accomplished children. Forgive me if for the life of me I cannot figure out what it is. Now, your mother…"

Lucius's voice trailed off, and Draco could see the wistfulness and hurt in his father's face.

They sat in silence for a moment before Lucius spoke again.

"When your mother left, I could not believe it. I was so blind. I never dreamed she would turn away from me."

Draco's voice was soft. "She had to make a choice; I needed her. I had lost everything else, thanks to you."

Lucius studied the wallpaper as he spoke.

"Yes. That is how it would seem. But in reality, when I killed Jennifer DePorter – when I killed the woman my son loved - I erased all meaning from my own life – for it cost me my son and my wife. And to save himself from me, my son found friends, and glory, and power – you do not have to grovel before the Dark Lord and kiss his foul robe. You walk down the street, openly, and if anyone were to be foolish enough to attack you, any one of a dozen wizards and witches would willingly sacrifice themselves to save you. So, Draco, the tables have turned. You have the Malfoy wealth, you have worthy associates who are loyal, you have respect and honor and I am a fugitive. And part of me is relieved, for no matter what happens to me, I know that my son will thrive."

Draco didn't know how to respond. He took a small package out of his robes, and slid it over to his father.

"What is this?"

"Mother told me to give it to you."

Lucius arched an eyebrow, and opened the package. His eyes widened, and he quickly secreted the item into his robes.

"What is it?" Draco was frankly curious.

Lucius replied in a low voice.

"Yet more proof that I was fortunate indeed when I managed to woo your mother."

"That's not an answer."

"That's all the answer you need. This is a private matter between your mother and I."

Draco decided not to challenge his father on his statement; it was, after all, correct.

Lucius sighed.

"And now, Draco, you must do something for me."

Lucius slid a rolled piece of parchment across the table.

Draco only hesitated briefly before taking it.

He was wholly unprepared for his father's next words.

"I beg you, should I fall, that you look after the affairs of your sister."


	25. Draco's Errand List

Chapter 25 – Draco's Errand List

The early morning silence was broken with a popping noise as Draco Apparated in front of the Potter home.

Dobby was all too happy to show "Master Draco" to the living room, where Harry was propped up on some pillows watching television.

Draco was pleased to see that Harry had put on some weight – he no longer looked like a human skeleton. However, although the emerald eyes were as bright and sharply alert as ever, his features were still shrunken and gaunt.

_Lord, he's such a mess. How the hell did he live long enough to get to us?_

"Draco! What are you doing here this early in the morning?" Harry's face broken into a smile when he saw his former partner.

Draco shrugged. "Busy day today, I need some advice from your wife."

"Oh, you feel my advice isn't good enough?"

"I rather doubt it. Would you have any idea how I should act with a young sister, about four years old or so?'

Harry was silent.

"You're having me on. No. Of course you aren't. Four years old?"

"Yes. It appears my dear father hasn't quite lacked for companionship in his years on the run."

Harry's eyes widened. "Right. Right, I'd forgotten you were going to see him. How did that go? What did he want?"

Draco stared at the wall – he really didn't want Harry's probing eyes to read anything from his face.

"Oddly enough, he just wanted to see how his son was doing and tell me about my sister."

Harry was quiet a moment before saying, "How detailed did your contact report for Amos have to be?"

"Didn't have to mention my sister, if that's what you mean. Amos let me get away with merely writing "personal family matters" on the report. Quite frankly, for obvious reasons, the less known about that the better."

Harry nodded in understanding. He locked eyes with Draco.

"So, how do you feel about it?"

Draco pondered for a moment. "I know it sounds odd, but it was one of the most pleasant times I've ever spent with my father. And much to my utter amazement, when I really think about it, I'm rather chuffed to think I have a sister. I'm taking Tonya to meet her today, and then I have to go by Ron's house."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"Things getting that serious with Tonya?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I just know I'm sure as hell not going there alone, and Tonya's good with kids. She was a pediatric dentist, you know."

Harry gave a wan smile. "So I've heard. My wife isn't too hot on her."

_Was it just me, or was there a subtle emphasis on "my wife"?_

Draco dodged. "I suppose so. I don't understand why, but it's been that way ever since we met her."

Harry – to Draco's amazement – actually snorted, before continuing with a sly grin on his face.

"Quite easy to understand, really, Ginny doesn't like competition. Never has. And I don't think she enjoyed Tonya taking your time while I was, er, deceased."

_Subtle emphasis? What the hell was I thinking? This is Harry-Subtle-As-An-Avada-Kedavra-Potter I'm talking about. His idea of subtle would be a parade in Trafalgar Square._

_Then again…_

_Is that Harry's way of saying, "I know what almost happened with you and Ginny while I was gone, and I will not hold it against you?"_

_Or is saying "I know what almost happened and you better watch yourself around her"?_

_Or is he saying both?_

For once, Draco was at a loss for words.

_It's not like you didn't know this was coming._

_Damn, damn, damn._

"It's good to have you back, Harry."

_Please let's drop it._

Harry smiled. "It's good to be back. And I feel loads better. Hey, look, I can walk across the room!"

Draco watched as Harry gingerly climbed out of bed and took several haltering steps across the room, leaned against the wall for a moment, and limped back to the bed. He had a broad grin, and seemed to pay no mind to the film of perspiration that had appeared across his brow.

_He used to be so vigorous. Of course, I don't want to think what condition I would be in if I was the Dark Lord's captive for two years straight._

"Looking good, Harry. Looking real good."

"I've set a goal. Two steps further each day. And I've got motivation. I can't leave this house until I can move around, you know, it's just not safe."

Draco didn't comment. It was obvious that Harry couldn't leave the house without massive assistance, and it was equally obvious that he would never leave the house until he could defend himself because he would not want to jeopardize his escort.

"That reminds me, Draco, I've quite a favor to ask of you."

Draco didn't hesitate. "Name it and it's yours."

"Well, you know how bad I feel that the Ministry is going crazy trying to reinforce all the security measures and wards that I told Voldemort about-"

Draco interrupted Harry.

"None of that, Harry, it's not your fault. He had you for two years. There's no humanly possible way you could have resisted."

Harry continued, "Well, still, the Ministry is re-casting or changing all the wards I worked on as an Auror, and redesigning the defenses, which is all very well and good, but there's a private orphanage I set up, outside Hogsmeade…and, well, it's private, not governmental, see?"

Draco nodded. "And the Ministry can't spare the manpower to fix the wards you cast because Voldemort is back in action exploiting every weakness he can find to try to destabilize Arthur."

"Precisely. My escape foiled Riddle's latest plan to mess with the world, so he's lashing out just to create fear until he can come up with a new scheme. Tom's getting rather predictable in his old age, I'm afraid," Harry concluded with a harsh laugh.

"Say no more. As I said, I have to go to Ron's later, I'll bring him and we'll do it together."

Harry was obviously pleased. "Thanks, Draco. Any update on Operation Flamel?"

Lately, they had started to refer to the long-standing attempt to trick Voldemort into going after a non-existent Sorcerer's Stone as "Operation Flamel." Draco knew that Harry was anxious for some good news.

"Well, it's tricky. I think we should slow down the leaks of the progress we're making, to make it look like we're not getting anywhere for a while."

Harry nodded. "Excellent idea. I would be most upset if you lured Tom into your web before I was recovered enough to take part in the battle."

"Yes, we're back to being governed by the Prophecy again. After you "died", there were two schools of thought – one school thought – hoped – that just because you were "the one" with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, didn't mean that you were the _only_ one."

"Well, it doesn't make sense that if I fail, the world is doomed to suffer the Eternal Darkness of Tom."

_You can joke about it, Harry, but when we thought you were dead, we really started to wonder._

"The other school of thought had a more select membership."

Harry's face was grim.

"Enlighten me."

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny and I…we thought…"

Draco looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and looked straight at Harry.

"We thought Sirius might also be one who could fulfill the Prophecy."

Harry paled, and then became angry.

"That is NOT acceptable. I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that if I fail, my SON is going to have to face that GOD DAMNED MONSTER! It cannot be true! It IS NOT TRUE!"

Harry's voice became more agitated, raising to a shout at the end. His eyes glittered with anger, and his whole body became tense, before he suddenly relaxed with an audible release of breath and sank back into his pillows.

"No, no, no…it doesn't make sense. I mean, Ginny and I have defied him much more than thrice, damn it, right?"

Draco spoke softly. "We just don't know. We couldn't exactly consult most experts in these matters, we sure didn't want to draw attention to Sirius, but we just don't know. Does the Prophecy mean that you have to defy Voldemort exactly three times or at least three times? Sirius was born at the end of July. Coincidence? We just weren't sure. All we knew for sure is that we would all do everything we could to defend Sirius if we had to."

"I know. And it won't come to that." Harry's voice was flat.

"You sound sure."

"I am. I'm going to kill Tom, and Sirius will have a normal life. End of story."

Draco didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He was sure that Harry's good mood was ruined, so he was a bit surprised by Harry's next statement.

"Feel like doing me a second favor, since I'm sort of stuck here? You'll like this one."

Draco realized it was going to be a long day.

Harry was right. His idea of a favor appealed to Draco to no end.

There were a few more things to discuss. Much to Draco's surprise, Harry thought that it was a good sign that Lucius knew that Draco didn't have Kyrene's Syndrome. He told Draco that he knew very well that Lucius was bound by powerful Dark Magic and could not betray Voldemort – but he also thought that Lucius was such a powerful adversary that it might actually be possible to arrange sanctuary for Lucius outside of Britain if he would merely adapt a stance of neutrality.

Draco was reminded once again that Harry did have quite the inner Slytherin when it suited him.

Finally, Draco took his leave of Harry and went to find Ginny, who was "somewhere outside", according to Harry.

Draco was beginning to feel like a bit of an idiot, walking around the grounds calling for Ginny before a voice from high above said, "Oi! Draco, up here!"

A quick Apparation later, and Draco was on the roof of the Potter house with Ginny.

"I suppose you know I must ask why you're on your roof."

Ginny shrugged, lay down on her back, and stared at the sky.

"Late at night and early morning are the only times I have to myself lately. Between Sirius, Elizabeth and Harry, I think I have three children. I like to fly in the mornings and just get away from everything while the kids are sleeping."

Draco smiled, "Harry's awake, you know."

Ginny said, "Yes, he's up early this morning, and he's in a good mood, thank God. He's getting better, but his mood swings are awful."

Draco idly said, "I suppose that's to be expected, after what he's been through."

"He should be insane. He's slowly been telling me what they did to him. I would have killed myself rather than suffer what he's been through. I don't know how he goes on."

Draco laid down next to Ginny. "Would you really? If you thought there was a chance that you'd see Sirius and Elizabeth again? Would you really kill yourself?"

Ginny turned to look at Draco. "Don't forget, he was told that Sirius and Elizabeth were dead, and believed it until your father started dropping hints that Harry was foolish to believe anything his enemies told him."

Draco thought about that a bit. "He said something about that earlier. How, exactly, did my father hint that?"

"Harry lost it one day and started screaming at Lucius that his Death Eater friends had killed his children. Lucius mocked Harry and said something about how he pathetic he had become, and that his fellow Aurors would hate to see him the way he was, forgetting all his training."

"And how, exactly, did this give Harry hope that his children were alive?"

"Lucius said, roughly, something like, "You were an opponent who I could respect once, if at least for your intelligence. Now you're broken so far that you've forgotten everything you've ever learned! I don't know why you're even speaking with me – you should know better. I am your enemy, and you should know better than to waste your breath speaking with me, or paying the least mind to anything your enemies say. Words are weapons just like wands, Potter, and you should know that they can do just as much damage, especially if you are foolish enough to take them seriously."

"Interesting. What did Harry say?"

"Nothing, it took him a minute to figure it out, and by then Lucius had gone. But it made him think that maybe Lucius was doing him a favor by telling him that perhaps he had been lied to about his children being dead."

_Click._

"I think my father is playing a very dangerous game. It's more vital than ever that I speak with Ron and Hermione. Thanks, Ginny, I have to run."

Ginny idly waved at Draco as he disappeared with a POP!.

Draco was so absorbed in thinking about his father that he had totally forgotten to tell Ginny about his sister.

Tonya Bellingham was still sleeping when Draco started knocking on her door.

"Coming, coming, coming, for God's sake stop that pounding."

She opened the door to find a somewhat nervous-looking Draco pacing back and forth in front of her flat.

"What's going on, Draco?"

"It's been an interesting twenty-four hours and I need your help with a little problem."

"A problem that needs you to drag me out of bed early Saturday morning?"

Draco was slightly indignant. "It's nine o'clock, that's hardly early."

"It is when you've been out dancing all night."

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Not with anyone as handsome as myself, I trust?"

Tonya laughed, a rich lively sound.

"That would be impossible. Of course, it's entirely possible that I could grow tired of your commitment issues and decide that a less-attractive, and dare I say, less magical man may snap me up."

"Perish the thought. You want magic, I'll show you magic. I need you to fly with me somewhere."

"Where, pray tell, do we need to go? I'm somewhat cranky and don't really feel like dealing with the security Gestapo at Gatwick at the moment."

Draco gave Tonya a puzzled look. "Gestapo?"

Tonya shook her head in mock disgust.

"We really do have to get you a proper education."

"At least I know what Gatwick is, and let me assure you that we won't have to deal with that Muggle horror."

Tonya gave Draco a playful slap on the shoulder and said, "Watch what you say about us Muggles, although I must agree that Gatwick is indeed the epitome of evil. We're flying from a private strip, then?"

Draco smiled.

"Oh yes, a quite exclusive strip indeed."

Five minutes, an Enlarging Charm on a shrunken broomstick, and a quick Disillusionment charm later, a smirking Draco and a screaming Tonya soared into the sky from the roof of Tonya's flat.

Half an hour later, they landed about half a kilometer away from the address that Lucius had given Draco.

"I am going to make you pay for that, Draco. Wizard or not, I will make you suffer like I have."

Draco thought that Tonya's windblown hair was rather flattering to her angry, brilliant eyes.

"I didn't think you would mind. I mean, you fly those explosive Muggle aeroplanes yourself."

"I understand how they work, Draco, it's a matter of control and respect. How would you like it if I slipped a small piece of wood between your legs, enlarged it into a broom and took off into the sky without so much a word of warning?"

"I thought you liked surprises."

"Well, yes, it was kind of thrilling once I was used to it, although that barrel roll was totally uncalled for."

"I like making you hold me tight."

Draco said that with a smile, but inwardly he as a bit concerned. The broom had, in truth, been somewhat difficult to control for some reason. It disturbed Draco, and he resolved to have the broom inspected at the earliest opportunity.

"Draco, if I wasn't afraid I was about to plummet to a most ugly death, that tight grip would have been around your neck instead of your abdomen. Now, where the hell are we?"

Draco turned somber. "I met with my father yesterday."

Tonya had some idea of the history between Draco and his father. She said nothing.

"It appears I have a four year old sister. I want to meet her, but I don't know how to behave, and, as you, Hermione and Ginny continually point out, I occasionally have the emotional depth of – what was it?"

Tonya replied in a flat voice, "A teacup."

"Ah, yes, a teacup. Yes. I thought you would be able to give me some support."

Tonya looked Draco in the eye.

"So, do you need someone here for this, or do you need me here for this?"

"I need someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone who is good with kids, who gives a damn about me, and someone who I trust to be around for a while."

Tonya was a bit stunned at this rather un-Draco like declaration.

"Fair enough. Let's meet the sister."

Five minutes later, a disappointed Draco was helping Tonya remount the broom.

Draco had been prepared for almost anything – anything, except for the fact that his sister and her mother were not home.

Tonya remarked idly, "Well, that was rather anti-climactic, don't you think?"

Draco shrugged.

"I'm sorry. You were really excited about this, weren't you?"

Draco was frank. "I don't know how I felt."

"I understand. Sometimes you toss a lot of emotions around, and nothing happens, and you don't know how to feel. Did they know you were coming?"

Tonya didn't say what she really wanted to ask, _do they even know you exist?_

Thankfully, Draco answered her unspoken question.

"No. Father told them I would possibly be dropping by, but he didn't say when."

Tonya changed the subject, with a hopeful tone in her voice.

"So, since I accompanied you on this fruitless journey, might I get you to spend the day with a girl who has the day off and just wants to have fun?"

"I have too many errands to do, but I can promise you a night at a good Italian restaurant."

"Bah. I'll hold out for better. Most Italian restaurants in London serve dreck."

Draco knew exactly what would mollify her.

"Quite right you are, but it doesn't really matter, since the restaurant I have in mind is in Italy."

Tonya squealed with delight.

"I know you well enough to know that you're not joking, but my flat is a mess and I have no idea where my passport is, and it could take me hours to find it."

"Don't worry, my little Muggle friend. Draco the Mighty Wizard can just whisk you away, and my Auror privileges with allow me to clear Italian Wizarding Customs with you as my guest."

"That sounds just exotic enough that I will overlook your "little Muggle friend" crack and let you take me home."

And with that, they soared into the sky.

A while later, Draco Apparated in front of Ron and Hermione's house, having shrunk his broomstick – it was great for flying Tonya around on, but Apparating was much more efficient, though not nearly as fun.

Not bothering to knock, Draco walked into the house. He was greeted with a sight that dumbfounded him so much he was rendered incapable of speech.

Hermione Weasley was propped up on the couch, hair in some sort of weird Muggle contraption, some odd goo on her face. This, in itself, did not surprise him – Hermione, although rather plain for Draco's taste, occasionally felt the need to be more "girl-like" and would attempt to make herself more feminine – a phenomena that usually occurred when she felt that some other female was getting a bit too flirty with Ron at work.

Draco knew she needn't worry – Ron's unshakable loyalty aside, Draco didn't know a single female – with the possible exception of Ginny Potter – who wasn't absolutely terrified of Hermione Weasley.

Hermione's latest attempt at self-beautification did not surprise Draco.

The sight of Hermione watching television, however – while her husband sat with his nose buried in a book, no less – was almost more than he could bear.

"Ahem."

Both Weasleys looked up, neither surprised to see Draco, standing, unannounced in their house.

"Hi, Draco," said Ron, in a totally disinterested voice.

"Hi, Draco," said Hermione, in a identically disinterested voice.

Draco's darted to the television, then to Ron's book, then to the television, and finally back to the book.

"Let me guess. You two, in your never-ending quest to discover new forms of monogamous sexual perversions known to man, have decided to Polyjuice into each other just to see sex from the other's perspective."

Hermione actually snorted.

"REALLY, Draco, even in the gutter I must confess your mind can be terribly creative. That has never even occurred to us."

Ron's voice sounded from behind the book that once again hid his face.

"Might be kind of an interesting idea, 'Mione."

"Thank you, Ron, no. There is no way I am allowing you to turn into me and seeing just how fat I really am."

"You're nowhere near fat, Hermione."

"And you can be a dear. No, let's focus on why we have a guest, who seems to be baffled by you reading and me watching the telly."

Draco smiled as he said, "Well, it does seem a bit out of character."

Hermione shrugged. "A girl has to unwind somehow. And besides, it's not out of character for Ron. Look at what he's reading."

Ron waved the book cover slightly in the air.

_Great Moments in Quidditch History_

"Ah. Of course. Ron, you'll love why I'm here."

Ron put the book down.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. But first, I need both of you to give me some advice."

An hour later, a very serious Hermione and Ron had not only heard Draco talk about his meeting with his father, but had actually insisted on viewing parts of the meeting in a Penseive.

"So, what do you think?"

Ron's reply as immediate. "He's obviously trying to tell you something, something he can't directly say, something he wants Hermione to figure out. You say Harry thinks there's a chance Dad will grant him amnesty?"

"Not amnesty, exile. Big difference."

"Either way, it means an end to life on the run."

Draco nodded, and said, "Not to mention a bigger price on his head from Voldemort than even Snape."

"That too."

Hermione spoke up. "This is very, very disturbing. I have an idea what he's talking about, but I need to do more research."

Draco looked at Hermione. "Hermione, what was your article that Father was talking about?"

She looked down at the floor.

"Among other things, reanimating the dead."

Draco grasped the point immediately.

"What would be the purpose?"

Ron chose to answer this one.

"I should think it would be obvious. To hurt you, of course."

Draco's voice was cold. "Jennifer DePorter is dead, irrevocably gone. Anything that Voldemort reanimates would be a lifeless, soulless shell, and I would not hesitate to destroy it."

Hermione nodded, but added, "There might be darker implications. I'm not sure. I promise, Draco, I will get to the bottom of this."

They were quiet for a minute before Ron said, "You said I would love your reason for coming here. What's up, Draco?"

Draco smiled. "I need your help to reinforce the wards on an orphanage that Harry supports. But first, I need you with me on a little errand."

"An errand? Will I like it?"

"Oh yeah."

Roderick Plumpton slowly turned his cloth over, polishing the wood of the ancient Cleansweep as he had done countless thousands of time before.

Three quarters of a century ago, he had been one of the greats. Even though he was past his prime, and could no longer compete professionally, he still tried to play in the Senior League at least once a week. His long eyesight was still sharp enough to make him a formidable presence on the Quidditch patch – and his record for the fastest catch of a snitch, although frayed by a close shave by that young Potter lad, was still intact.

Plumpton had played, professionally, well into his late sixties. Now, he was well over a hundred years old, but still enjoyed beating players who were twenty years younger.

He could not leave Quidditch behind. He tried announcing for awhile, but it didn't suit him very well. His current post of Curator of the Quiddich Museum of Britain allowed him to walk through history.

Of course, his painstaking care of the relics entrusted to his care was occasionally interrupted by unwelcome distractions – like the voices that were echoing from the west wing.

"Hey, Draco, look! A Championship Trophy from the Cannons!"

"Funny, I thought that only existed in myth."

Plumpton walked up to the young men who were disrupting the quiet of his museum.

"Gentlemen, this museum is closed until noon. How did you get in?"

Draco flashed Auror credentials at the aged Quidditch star, whose unimpressed reaction stood in direct contrast to that of the front door clerk who had let them in "just a wee bit early, should be ok, seein' as 'ow it's you, Mr. Malfoy."

'Well, well, if you're here to investigate a theft, gentlemen, you are quite late. There hasn't been a theft from this museum since 1959."

Ignoring Draco's muttered, "we're AURORS for God's sake, not Magical Law Enforcement", Ron tried to pacify the old man.

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, sir, but we're here to pick up something, and I really wanted to get in early so that I could meet you – I've admired you ever since I saw a replay of that catch against Russia in the World Cup."

Plumpton brightened. "Well, I suppose I can excuse enthusiasm in someone who has a respect for the history of the Noble Sport. What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Ron silently showed the parchment he was carrying to Plumpton, who held it at arm's length while scanning it with a muttered, "old eyes, you know, but the long vision is still there, oh yes…"

His face fell, but showed acceptance as he read the document.

He handed it back to Ron.

"I suppose it is in order. I knew this was coming, ever since Mr. Potter's return, but still, it'll be sad to see it go. It is quite a draw for the Museum, you know."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "People really come just to see it?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Even setting aside this particular model's history, the Firebolt has been on the market for over a decade, and nothing has been introduced to match it in competition in all that time. As far as I am aware, all production models are either in active use or have been destroyed in accidents. This is the only one on public display in all of Britain."

Plumpton said this as they walked down a hall, stopping in front of a case containing a broom. The case had a small plaque mounted at the front.

_Harry Potter's FIREBOLT_

_Manf. 1994 – one of the first production runs_

_Given to Mr. Potter by the late Sirius Black_

_First ridden in competition at Hogwarts_

_On indefinite loan from the Potter Family_

Draco shook his head. "I can't count the number of times Harry embarrassed me with this damned broom."

Plumpton's eyes widened.

"Oh! Mr. Malfoy! Forgive me, I didn't recognize you! I hope you're not here to claim YOUR broom back as well!"

Draco looked at the curator with confusion.

"_My _broom?"

"Why, yes, your Nimbus Two Thousand One. It's undergoing restoration downstairs, we were hoping to include it over there." Plumpton gestured to a wall where several brooms, uniforms and assorted Quidditch gear was displayed under a great sign reading _HOGWARTS HOUSE TEAMS – FIRST TASTE OF GREATNESS FOR MANY RISING STARS._

Draco walked up to the wall in shock.

"You have my entire kit up there."

"Oh, yes, a most generous loan from your mother. A charming woman, if I may say so."

Ron snickered.

_Draco really has no idea how to handle the fact that his childhood Quidditch foibles are being enshrined in a museum. I think he's actually touched._

Draco pointed excitedly to his old Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"Look, right there, you can see where I mended it after Cho Chang ran her broom into my wand pocket!"

_Forget touched. Make the ecstatic. I think in his own way he needs acceptance even more than Harry does.   
No wonder they both fell in love with my sister. Say what you will about her, she lets you know when she thinks you're worth a damn. _

Ron's idle thoughts were interrupted by Plumpton handing him Harry's old broom.

"Make sure this gets back to its owner safely, young man. I was very pleased to hear of Mr. Potter's, er, return, even if I knew it meant I would lose one of my best exhibits."

"Come on, Malfoy, let's go see how Harry's orphans are doing."

It took a few minutes to pull a still-excited Malfoy away from a sign reading "Slytherin Championships Over The Years."

"See, I TOLD you that Slytherin historically ran Gryffindor into the dirt."

Ron sighed.

A few minutes later, each bearing a shrunken broom, the two Aurors were walking up a country lane that led to a large, pleasant house that had at least a dozen children playing in front of it, under the watchful eye of two matronly-looking women.

Ron remarked idly, "Wow, this is sure isolated."

Draco nodded. "I guess Harry wanted it to be defensible in case of attack – the wards are supposed to be pretty intense. Most of the children are either half-bloods or Muggleborns."

Ron knew this too – after all, the reason most of these children were orphans was because their parents had been targeted by Voldemort or perished fighting him. Rich pureblood families often adopted the war orphans of other pureblood families – but families with no real ties to the wizarding world other than their children didn't have the same support structure.

This, of course, made the orphanage a potential target of Voldemort.

Draco and Ron both shared the same thought, as they watched curious children turn to look at them.

_Bastard._

Although the two women were obviously watching the two men with slight suspicion, the children were already calling out to the strangers. A small brown-haired boy seemed unusually excited, and was already waving to Draco.

Ron looked at the children and spoke to Draco.

"Buggers are kind of cute, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but there's a problem with them. If you feed them, they grow."

Ron smiled.

"So are they always cooped up here?"

"No, Harry said they Portkey to Hogsmeade every other weekend or so."

Ron stopped, and looked at the house with an Auror's eye. He waved his wand around in what appeared to be an almost idle motion, but Draco knew he was sensing the wards.

"Good work. Even Bill would be almost impressed."

"Almost?"

"My brother has very high standards."

"Unusual for a Weasley."

Ron wasn't fazed.

"True. I mean, look at how my sister almost fell for you."

Ron wasn't deliberately trying to bait Draco – the words slipped out before he could stop them, an instinctive response in a friendship that had begun in near-hatred and had grown and developed – with wars of escalating insults along the way – into something that had resulted in both of the men routinely risking their lives for each other.

Draco, for his part, was amazed that he could hear a reference to Ginny – and the relationship that almost but never was – without the usual piercing pain through his belly.

_Does that mean I'm getting over her, or does it mean that I've just accepted it?_

Draco shot a neutral look at a clearly horrified Ron, who was waiting for an explosion – or worse, a patented "Draco-sulk", which Draco knew Ron didn't want to deal with.

He decided to let Ron off the hook.

"No, that's just proof that at least one Weasley is smart enough to take advantage of a shallow but incredibly charming and wealthy twit like myself."

Ron smiled, obviously relieved.

"So, what's the plan?"

Draco's voice was all business.

"Harry can't remember if he told them the secrets behind the wards when he broke under torture. So, he wants us to reinforce them and add a few twists."

Ron nodded. "Easy enough. Let's go introduce ourselves. Those two witches look like they're getting ready to hex us."

"Forget about the witches, I'm more scared of the children."

"I would have thought that after Sirius and Elizabeth no children could scare you ever again."

"Bite your tongue, Weasel-boy, I'm still having nightmares about that night I babysat them."

"Well, at least – "

Draco suddenly felt something odd – _could it –_

_Shit._

Draco yelled out, _"TRIGGER!"_

Simultaneous with Draco's words, both Aurors pulled their wands out.

Several things happened at once.

The two witches watching the children moved as a team, as one shot a Stunning spell at Ron – who easily blocked it – as the other witch actually _accio'd _ several children and tried to direct them into the house.

Draco spun around and shouted out, "We're Aurors, get inside!"

The witch holding a dozen children in the air with a single wand – a pretty impressive feat, actually – seemed to believe Draco, because she shouted out something to the other witch who turned her wand away from the two Aurors and directed it towards the empty field that Ron and Draco had walked past.

Draco knew instantly what Ron had sensed – somehow, one of the many wards around the house had been altered somehow to react to something about Draco and Ron – there was some common trait between them that the ward had detected, and he didn't know what it was, but his Auror training and sensitivity to changes in magical wards had felt it only a split second before Ron had felt the same thing, making Draco's shout of warning unnecessary.

_Trigger Ward, set to respond to a specified presence._

Scanning the sky and grounds, Ron muttered to Draco.

"Who do you think it summoned?"

"Three guesses who. Harry was quite specific about what wards he put in place, and he sure didn't put a Trigger Ward keyed to us here."

A commotion behind them made Draco turn.

"Oh, just lovely, the house has closed itself so the children can't get inside."

Ron sighed.

"I think we better get these kids out of here, now."

Draco's response was typically sarcastic.

"Oh, of course, Einstein. I'm sure that whoever set the Trigger Ward and keyed it to a Repelling Spell on the house's doors undoubtedly forgot to throw an Anti-Appariton and Anti-Portkey spell into the mix."

"Call for help?"

"Ok, I-"

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!" "REDUCTO!" _

_"__MADALTO!"_

_"__LAHALITO!"_

_"__MAPORFIC MAXIMUS!"_

Draco felt the wind get knocked out of him, as a spinning kick by Ron right into his belly sent him flying to the ground, even as the bright, sickly green light of the _Avada Kedavra_ curse went streaking through the space Draco's chest had been a split second before Ron's kick sent him to the ground. Draco didn't know who had sent the curse, but there was no mistaking Ron's booming voice calling out _Maporfic Maximus_ as Draco scrambled to his feet.

Draco was immediately aware of three things.

First, eight Death Eaters were firing multiple curses at the orphanage.

Second, all of the curses were breaking apart on an invisible ward-line around the property, and the angry voices of the Death Eaters did not quite cover the sounds of screaming and crying children huddling together in front of the house.

And third, Ron was kneeling on one knee, with one hand dug into the soil and one thrust upwards into the air. He also looked like he was under a great strain.

He looked at Ron.

"Why aren't we dead, and what the hell is Maporfic Maximus?"

Ron's reply was half-spoken, half-grunted.

"Neat…little..trick I learned…from Hermione."

"Of course, what the hell does it do?"

"The…bastards must have compromised the wards…sometime back. The wards…contain a bit…of Harry's…magical…essence. With…enough…time, they were able to neutralize it…so they would look like they were…still functional…but…they could bring them down…whenever they…wanted."

"So what have you done?"

"I've replaced….Harry's essence…with my own…and anchored it…to the earth. The wards…are functional…but they are drawing power…through and from me. I think…a few curses…got through before I could…get the wards back up…I really feel…pretty shitty…Draco."

"How long can you keep it up? I note my dear Aunt Bella is out there, screaming her usually nonsensical bullshit at us."

"For…maybe…a half hour. Heh. Tell your Aunt that she reminds me…of Sirius's mom."

"I do hope you are referring to Sirius Black."

"Yeah…"

"Any suggestions on what to do?"

"No…bloody…idea…check on…the kids."

"Right."

Draco ran back the twenty meters or so to the house, to find chaos and two very angry and very scared witches.

"Stupid Aurors! Why did you lead them here?"

"What are you going to do about the children?"

Several children were obviously injured. The most severely injured child was staring at Draco, who bent down next to him. He had obviously been hit by at least one curse, and had also been struck with shrapnel created when the _Avada Kedavra_ curse had struck the house after missing Draco.

At a loss, Draco decided to treat some of the children as best he could, and hope that some idea would come to him as to how to get out of this mess.

_No problem, right? Ron says he can hold out for a good half hour. I'm sure I can think of something in that time._

"You look banged up a little bit young man, let's see what I can do for you."

The brown haired boy – no more than ten – looked at Draco with seriousness, as Draco used his wand to sterilize a shirt so he could use it as a bandage to stem the boy's bleeding arm.

"You're Draco Malfoy!"

Draco was a bit surprised at being recognized.

"Why yes, I am, and I need you to be brave so that I can try to fix your arm."

"You're my favorite Auror."

Despite the situation, Draco laughed.

"Really, now, and do you know a lot about Aurors?"

"Sure! I had to trade two Potters, a Shacklebolt and a Williamson for you!"

Draco was baffled by this statement until the boy reached into his pants pocket with his good hand and pulled out a small toy, which Draco recognized as an _Awesome Aurors™ Action Figure_. The boy put the small figure on the ground, where the miniature Draco started walking in a circle, occasionally dodging imaginary threats and pointing his little wand at the sky.

Draco vaguely remembered Harry coming to him, years ago, asking him to sign a paper giving him the right to produce the toy.

_The money's going to a charity that is very important to me, Draco. Orphaned kids. I have half the Auror staff on board, won't you sign?_

Draco looked at the boy, who even though he was obviously in great pain was looking at Draco with something approaching worshipfulness.

"You're going to get those bad guys and save us, aren't you, Mr. Malfoy? I know you can! I read about how you got four Death Eaters at the Third Battle of Diagon Alley! And that's Mr. Weasley over there! He's almost as good as you are!"

_I took down four Death Eaters that day, sure, but the street was already cleared of civilians – I didn't have to worry about defending a dozen children at the same time!_

Wisely, Draco didn't voice this thought. He was more concerned with the fact that if he was reading the diagnostic spells properly, the kid was dying.

"Yes, Ron and I are going to get you out of here. We just need a plan. What's your name?"

"Fred. My name's…Fred."

Fred's voice was getting weaker. Draco wasn't sure what curse had hit him, and the boy's injuries were way beyond Draco's basic field medic abilities.

Draco called out to Ron.

"Ron! How you doing?"

"Just…bloody…peachy…any ideas yet?"

"I'm forming one."

Draco thought that the two teachers seemed to have some idea what they were about, judging by the way they had moved quickly to attack Ron while trying to shelter the kids.

_Eight Death Eaters…they can't get us through the shield, but we can't attack through the shield, either. If Ron drops the shield, if we could get each teacher to take on one Death Eater, and Ron and I take three apiece…it just might work…_

Although sound had a bit of trouble passing the active shield ward, which was still flashing many colors as the Death Eaters continued to rain curses on it, Draco lowered his voice.

"Ron, if you drop the shield, will you be able to roll and attack instantly?"

"No can..do, mate…this damned thing is tied to my…life force…when I drop it, I'll be lucky if I can stay..conscious….it'll be at least a minute..or two…before I'll be able…to…stand."

_So much for that bright idea. Me, against six Death Eaters? And having to make sure they all focus on me, and not attack the children or Ron? That's not happening._

_I better see how Fred is doing._

"How are you holding up, Fred?"

"It…hurts. Can I go inside?"

"I wish we could."

Draco turned to one of the teachers.

"Any luck getting past that Repelling charm? If we can just get in that house…"

Both of the adults knew that the house had multi-layered defenses, and the means to communicate with the outside world to summon help.

"No, none at all…I'm sorry for what I said earlier, you didn't lead them here, did you? They must have been here before for them to alter the wards like that."

"Right in one. Harry sent us here to reinforce the wards because he was afraid of something like this."

The teacher dropped her voice.

"Fred's dying, isn't he?"

Draco looked helplessly at the young boy.

"I'm afraid so. I don't even know what curse hit him."

The other teacher, who had been tending to a less-injured child, suddenly shouted, "LOOK!" and pointed towards the sky.

Draco looked up and saw a heavyset figure with bright blue hair streaking on a broom through the sky towards the house, coming up behind the Death Eaters.

_I don't know why she's carrying that extra weight, but there's no mistaking that blue hair anywhere. Tonks. We're saved._

Draco smiled as the figure withdrew her wand, and pointed it towards the house – and then, much to Draco's astonishment, instead of attacking the Death Eaters, a burst of light struck the ward, and the figure swooped right through the shield ward where the light had struck. The broom skipped along the ground and the woman fell off the broom and rolled, screaming out in pain as she slid along the ground.

The Death Eaters immediately focused their attack where the woman had breached the ward, but instead of absorbing their curses or letting them through, the ward in that area reflected the curses right back at them, disabling one of the Death Eaters.

Draco was furious. He rounded on the woman with blue hair, who had slowly lifted herself off the ground.

"God DAMNIT, Tonks, you could have taken them ALL from behind, what the HELL were you thinking, and how the HELL did you get through the ward? And why are you carrying three times your normal weight in a combat zone?"

The woman, now standing, got right into Draco's face, shouting right back at him with a clear American accent.

"I don't have a single clue who this "Tonks" person you're referring to is, as for what the HELL I was thinking there are injured children here, I have NO idea how to "take out a Death Eater from behind", I'm a Healer, not an Auror, and I'll have you know you insensitive prick that this IS my normal weight and if you know how I can get it off I'll be more than happy to listen but I doubt it because it seems that you don't have the brains that God gave a Jarvey and it's none of your DAMNED BUSINESS how I got through that ward!"

As Draco was attempting to wrap his mind around the woman's incredibly disjointed but furious monologue, one of the teachers called out, "Oh, Sharon, thank God you're here, Fred is very badly injured!"

Draco watched in astonishment as the woman turned away as if he didn't exist and started to wave her wand over Fred. He was torn between fury at this arrogant woman and gratefulness that Fred was at least receiving some sort of medical care.

He knelt down next to Fred, who was glaring at Sharon.

"Don't you be mean to Mr. Malfoy, he's going to save us!"

Sharon looked up at Draco, and said, "Draco Malfoy, the Auror?"

He nodded mutely.

"Well, is it always your policy to battle Death Eaters where there are innocent Aurors around?"

Draco smiled at that.

"It's been a while since I've been called innocent. Are you sure you don't mean innocent children?"

The witch actually blushed, and said, "Yes, innocent children, thank you, well, you still haven't answered the question."

Thankfully, one of the teachers saved Draco the need to reply.

"It's not his fault, Sharon, this is a planned attack. If they weren't here, we'd be dead. Mr. Weasley over there is keeping the ward up."

Sharon looked at Ron, who was still in an odd position with one hand dug into the soil and the other thrust out towards the air. She squinted, frowned and then said, "He's tied that ward to his life force – that's very dangerous for him."

Draco's droll response was to the point - "Not as dangerous as having those eight Death Eaters out there swarming over here to kill us."

Sharon sighed in resignation. "I suppose so. I'm sorry for accusing you of starting this mess. I'm a bit rattled. I'm terrified of flying and I've just flown into a Death Eater ambush to boot. Any ideas how to get out of here?"

Draco looked around him…the injured and uninjured children, all obviously frightened, the three witches, also obviously scared but trying to hide it from the children, his partner, who was clearly barely holding on…funny…the way that Healer flew, you'd never think she was scared of flying.

He looked at Sharon, who was shaking slightly even as she worked on Fred.

She didn't want to come here – but she knew children were in trouble. She had no choice. And, neither do I.

"Yes. This ends now."

He walked towards Ron, and said to him, "Ron, I think it's time to go Article 13 on these bastards."

_Article 13 – Rules Of Engagement for Aurors In Totally Hopeless Situations_

Ron grunted affirmation. "You want to Avada them?"

"No, I have something far worse in mind."

"Count me...in."

"Just keep that shield up and I'll do the rest"

Draco turned towards the taunting Death Eaters and slowly let his mouth form a thin, evil smile.

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped right up to the ward and shouted at Draco.

"YOU BLOOD TRAITOR! The Dark Lord has special plans for you, young Malfoy! You better hope you die today, for I am going to do my best to take you alive for my Master!"

Draco looked at his mad aunt, and in a clear, firm voice said, _"Bellatrix Black, je, l'héritier de Malfoy, vous marquent en tant que mon ennemi."_

He then repeated in English, "Bellatix Black, I, the Malfoy Heir, do mark you as my enemy."

Bellatrix started to sneer, and suddenly turned pale.

She turned towards the Death Eaters.

"All of you, quickly, break through! YOU MUST BREAK THROUGH!"

The Death Eaters redoubled their attacks, even as Draco looked at the Death Eaters and shouted, _"Je vous marque tout en tant que mes ennemis!"_

Draco's eyes were alight as he again shouted in English, _"I MARK YOU ALL AS MY ENEMIES!"_

He then spun around, and blasted a nearby tree to splinters with his wand.

Ron called out, "What did you…do that for…that tree…never hurt anyone…"

Draco said flatly, "We're going to need wood when this is all over."

He looked at the children, and took a drink cup from one of them with a muttered apology. He then cut himself and drained a bit of blood into the cup.

A teacher looked at him, and asked what he was doing.

His voice was cold.

"Tell all the children to look towards the house, and no matter what they hear, they are not to turn around – at all."

He knelt down to Fred, who was looking noticeably better after Sharon's efforts. Sharon was looking at Draco with suspicion.

"Fred…I need your help."

"You need MY help?"

"Sure do. I need some help to get the bad guys. I need to call a monster, and I need a bit of your blood to do it. Is that ok with you?"

Fred looked at Malfoy with wide eyes.

"I trust you. Take what you need."

Without a word, Draco squeezed Fred's discarded bandages until a small stream of blood ran into the cup.

He produced a small vial from his robes, dumped its contents into the cup, and stirred it, before turning to Sharon.

"I need you to take your bra off."

Sharon looked at him in astonishment, and gave a loud, barking, nervous laugh before replying just quiet enough so that the children couldn't hear, "Uh, well, you know, I've heard about this casual sex thing and always wanted to try it, but don't you think the timing's a bit off for this?"

Despite himself, Draco smiled, and said, "I need a way to catapult this potion outside the wards. Your bra should do nicely"

Sharon shrugged, and pulled her arms out of her sleeves and made several odd motions under her large blouse before producing her bra triumphantly.

Draco took it with a muttered "thanks" and poured the potion into one of the cups, and spun in a circle before hurling the bra outside the wards, where a bit of the contents ran into the ground.

He then chanted out an incanation that made Ron's blood run cold.

_"Blood of the innocent, freely given, joins with the blood of the Heir, invoking the ancient covenants. Sataki, I, Draco, son of Lucius, descendant of Pierre de la Mal Foi, summon you forth to smite my enemies and take them to yourself."_

There was a flash of light, and a foul stench wafted through the air.

Ron was dimly aware that Bellatrix, seeming to know what was coming, had Apparated away, leaving the seven remaining Death Eaters confused and leaderless.

It didn't really matter.

Something not quite visible, some sort of phantom, had materialized outside the wards.

An otherworldly laughter rolled over the grounds, and the Death Eaters looked at each other in confusion and fright.

There was the sound of spells being cast – to no avail - and then screaming. Adult wizards, Death Eaters, screaming in stark terror.

The screaming intensified, and then dropped off, as it mingled with the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones.

Ron watched in horror as he saw something, something he couldn't quite describe or define, constantly swoop out of the sky and literally tear into the Death Eaters. Parts of their bodies were literally shredded – arms torn off, legs gnawed on – even as they collapsed in death.

_What has Malfoy done?_

Finally, all the Death Eaters save one had fallen. The remaining Death Eater was backed up against a tree, his wand held out in front of him, shaking wildly. Ron saw that a dark wet spot had formed in the Death Eater's crotch.

Malfoy's voice rang out again.

"Sataki, begone!"

With an agonized screech, a cry of some otherworldly desperation, there was a sense of something leaving this world, very much against its will.

"Ron…drop the shield."

Ron didn't question Draco, but simply collapsed on the ground. The earth started to spin around him as he vomited, and he struggled to remain conscious. He forced himself to watch Draco, who strode purposefully towards the lone remaining Death Eater wand held at his side.

_He's walking like some sort of ruler of old, his wand isn't even at the ready because he knows no one will dare challenge him._

Ron had never seen anyone – save Dumbledore – walk with such easy, confident superiority.

Draco stopped about a meter away from the terrified Death Eater.

_"Imperio Minmalis."_

Ron watched in fascination, curious to see what Draco was going to do to the lone Death Eater.

He slammed the Death Eater against the tree.

"I've left you alive for one reason. I need you to deliver a message for me."

The Death Eater stammered, "A…a..message?"

"You will tell all your fellow Death Eaters what happened here. Tell them what I have done. Tell them what you saw. You will make sure when you address Tom Riddle-"

"Tom-Tom Riddle?"

Draco screamed, an inch from the Death Eater's face, as the Death Eater flinched.

"_VOLDEMORT! TOM RIDDLE IS VOLDEMORT! _You will tell him that I am coming for him. You will tell him this will end one of two ways – either he will deliver himself to Harry and die quickly, and painlessly, or Harry and I will come for him, and I will torture him before turning his barely alive Mudblood carcass over to Harry for disposal! _YOU WILL TELL HIM THAT, IN THOSE EXACT WORDS, AND YOU WILL DO IT IN FRONT OF AS MANY WITNESSES AS POSSIBLE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"_

"Yes…yes…"

"Now, go. Run back to your fellow Death Eaters."

Without a word, the Death Eater disappeared with a POP!

Ron found his voice.

"What was that for? You know Voldemort will never surrender."

Draco shrugged, as he walked to the remains of the tree he destroyed.

"I don't care. I'm just thinking what it's going to do when that Death Eater tells off Voldemort in his own court. With any luck, it will severely impact Death Eater morale and maybe even inspire a few directions."

"Voldemort's going to know that the Death Eater you let go is speaking under compulsion, and he's going to kill him anyway, you know."

Draco reply was short and to the point.

"I don't really care.

"Well, at least this battle is over."

Draco started picking out the six biggest, longest pieces of wood from the shattered tree.

"Almost."

Ron climbed to his feet, wand at his side.

"Almost?"

Draco muttered, "yeah", even as one of the Death Eater corpses slowly rose upright.

Draco charged towards the animated corpse, driving a chunk of wood through the heart.

Ron paled.

"Damn, Draco."

Draco smiled, and tossed Ron three pieces of wood.

"C'mon, Ron, stake the remaining corpses. Standard anti-Vampire protocol, they're Undead, but not real vampires yet, and they're really weak. Then we'll have a little bonfire. No problem, we'll be done in ten minutes."

Ron looked towards the house, which looked peaceful – apparently the Repelling Charm had deactivated with the departure of the last Death Eater, and the children, their teachers, and the Healer had all rushed inside.

Ron looked around at the slightly quivering remains of the Death Eaters and called out to Draco.

"Remind me of this mess next time you ask me to run some simple errands with you, you bastard."

Draco laughed, even as he drove a stake through the heart of yet another Death Eater corpse.


	26. Public Relations

Chapter 26 – Public Relations

Draco walked calmly through the mass of cheering children to the reporters who were gazing at him with rapturous faces, and tried to decide which question to answer first – _no, no, Arthur Weasley was doing a fine job, thank you, but perhaps after his term expires I would be happy to serve if asked – yes, well, it's true there were eight Death Eaters, but he had faced worse odds and after all, there were children to be protected – well, yes, there was one disappointment, the escape of Bellatrix Lestrange was disappointing to be sure, but that pales when you look at the relieved face of the children..._

Draco shook his head to clear the vision and tried to tune out what Rita Skeeter was shrieking at him. He had already tried futilely to answer several questions only to have his answers shouted down or ignored.

"Dark Magic! An Auror using Dark Magic! Malfoy, do you think that you'll be prosecuted or merely expelled from the Auror ranks?"

The other comments by the reporters surrounding the orphanage grounds were along much the same lines.

"Malfoy! Did you learn to summon the forces of darkness when you were still in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Diggory, does the Auror division intend to pay damages to the alleged Death Eaters who were butchered without a fair trial?"

Amos Diggory glared at the reporter who had muttered the last bit of insanity and threw political caution to the winds.

"Actually, I was thinking of seizing their estates for the Ministry."

The uproar that followed was quickly silenced when a tall man dressed all in black and wearing gloves and a huge hat that protected every inch of exposed chalk-white skin from the sun spoke in a clear voice.

"Mr. Diggory! Sebastian Calizar, VRL, there are indications that Auror Malfoy used a form of mind-control to induce an innocent vampire to somehow attack and then subsequently destroyed that same vampire. The Vampire Rights League demands an answer to these allegations!"

Diggory smiled at the vampire and merely said, "Bollocks."

Three members of Magical Law Enforcement started pushing the crowd away, as Diggory and Draco started walking back towards the house. Draco couldn't help but notice that the Aurors themselves seemed split into three groups, one giving Draco nods of approval, another group shooting him glares of open contempt, and a third group maintaining stoic expressions of pure neutrality.

"So, Draco, what the bloody hell DID you do, anyways?"

"I invoked Article 13."

Diggory actually snorted. "Really? Never would have guessed. But WHAT exactly did you do? Avada Kedavra is one thing, but this is something I've never seen before."

Draco sighed. "Centuries ago, one of my ancestors sort of did a favor for some of the darker forces in the world. Now, the eldest son of the Malfoys has the power to summon the magic that created vampirism in the first place."

Amos Diggory looked hard at Draco, and then said, "Do that much, now, do you?"

"First time."

"Good. Well, we've got a score of living children who would be dead if you hadn't done what you've done, but good luck explaining it to that lot over there."

Amos jerked a thumb to the mass of braying reporters.

Draco smirked.

"I think if we got Merlin himself to do my PR, I'd still be screwed."

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a pop as an expanding wall of light swept in a growing circular pattern around the area.

The wall of light was a special spell that had been designed by an Auror years ago – it would detect the placement of every person within a radius of roughly a hundred meters, and would also detect if there was any person with a Dark Mark within that radius – it was extremely difficult to project a spell ahead of an Apparatition, and only one wizard had ever been able to actually cast it.

Diggory smiled. "Well, I think we're about to get the next closest thing."

Draco looked with shock as Harry Potter walked, unassisted, out of the burst of light.

He looked worn, and thin, but he was striding confidently towards Draco, without aid of a cane or crutch, and wearing full Auror robes.

In plain view of the reporters, he walked up to Draco and put both hands on Draco's shoulders, and stared at Draco's face for a long moment – just enough time, in fact, for the reporters to press forward.

In a clear, firm voice, Harry spoke, his words distinct in the absolute silence that had fallen upon the group.

"Thank you, Draco, for saving my children. I know what it cost you to do that, and I can never repay you."

A single tear rolled down Harry's cheek.

The reporters erupted in bedlam.

"Mr. Potter! Does this mean you're fully healed?"

"Harry! Are you returning to the Aurors?"

"Potter! Did you teach Malfoy the spell he used to save the children?"

Harry waved a hand over the reporters, as Draco watched in amazement.

"Well, I'm not in tip-top shape yet, but I'm certainly feeling better, thanks to my wife and friends."

_Good Lord, Harry, when did you get so good at manipulating the press? They're eating out of your hand._

"I wouldn't mind a bit more time to recover and spend some more time getting to know my family again, but I'm needed right away, of course I'll serve. But I don't think that's necessary, Minister Weasley and Amos Diggory seem to have matters well in hand."

A short, stubby man with a pointed beard shouted out the next question.

"Are you going to lead the fight against He-Who-Must-Be-Named?"

Harry smiled.

"No, no, Minister Weasley is leading the fight against Tommy Riddle, or Voldemort, or whatever that nutter is calling himself these days. I just help and advise when I can."

The crowd, which had uttered a half-gasp, half-moan at Harry's mocking tone, started murmuring amongst themselves.

A smallish man popped out in front of the crown of reporters.

"Harry! Colin Creevy, _The Quibbler Daily_, do you have any thoughts on what happened here today?

"I'm so glad you asked that, Colin. I think it's pretty obvious what happened here. Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, sent a cowardly group of eight ruthless killers to slaughter a bunch of defenseless children – mostly orphaned Muggleborns and half-bloods – and at great cost to themselves, two great Aurors, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley, used every means at their disposal to stop those children from getting killed – say, Teresa, is this going out live?" - Harry's last statement was directed at a shapely young witch who was levitating a camera with her wand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I think it's going overseas, too."

Harry flashed the witch from Wizarding Wireless Moving Pictures yet another grin.

"That's great – it's good for our friends outside England to know what we're dealing with here – it's kind of odd, really, that Voldemort would want to attack a bunch of Muggleborns and half-bloods, seeing as how his father was a Muggle himself. If the silly bugger hates half-bloods so much I just wish he would hurry up and off himself and save the taxpayers a load of Galleons. But, I don't think he'll do us that favor anytime soon."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter!"

No one knew which reporter had shouted the traditional closing phrase, but the group of reporters quickly disbursed, seeming both glad at their good copy and relieved that they wouldn't have to be the conduit for more mockery of the Dark Lord.

Harry turned to Draco, his face suddenly pale, and muttered, "let's get inside before I die."

Ron, Draco and Harry walked as quickly as they could without being obviously in a hurry. The moment they went inside the orphanage, Harry collapsed. Ron caught him just before he crashed to the floor.

"Bloody hell, Harry what have you done now?"

Harry's eyes opened, and rolled aimlessly in his head as he gasped for air.

After a few moments, he finally spoke.

"Sorry...Draco and you looked like you were getting kind of beat up, so I figured I'd lend a good word."

Draco looked critically at Harry.

"You were unable to walk this morning, and out there you were strutting around. Not that I don't appreciate it, but what did you do with yourself?"

Harry shrugged and waved a hand. "Sometimes you can do things with magic that are really bad for you. Doesn't matter, it'll just take me a little long to heal. I'm just more worried about what Gin's going to do to me when she finds out about this little excursion."

Draco laughed. "When did you learn how to play with the press like that?"

"Took a course at Hogwarts – PR for the Boy Who Lived."

Ron arched an eyebrow.

"I suspect my wife."

Draco looked at Ron. "Why do you always suspect your wife when someone does something brilliant they were never able to do before?"

Ron looked blankly at Draco, who responded to his own question. "Right, then. Stupid question, really. Now what do we do?"

Harry looked up at Draco. "First, I lie here and catch my breath. Then you make me a Portkey to get me back home, and we raise a glass as we imagine Voldemort's reaction to my little press conference."

Deep in southern England, a wizard rapped on the door to a dilapidated bedroom.

"Enter, Macnair."

A wretched looking wizard sporting an eye patch came into the room.

"Yes, my Lord?"

The high voice that came from the solitary figure standing in the middle of the room seemed not to fit, although Macnair dared not laugh.

"Potter seems to think it's funny to mock me for the press."

Wisely, Walden Macnair kept silent, for there was an unspoken assumption amongst the Death Eaters that it would be best to ignore Harry Potter's remarks – indeed, it would most likely be a good policy to pretend they never saw Potter on the wireless publicly mocking their Lord and Master.

"I think it would be best to show him that words have a price."

"Yes, Master."

Voldemort turned to face him, and gave Macnair orders that he had hoped to hear for years.

"We've already put one of Potter's dogs down. I believe I shall leave it to you to dispatch the other, as publicly as possible."

"With the greatest pleasure, thank you, my Lord."

It was a magnificent day in Diagon Alley.

Remus Lupin walked cheerfully down the street, thinking that perhaps things would work out after all.

Tonight, he was going to propose to Evelyn. For the tenth time in as many minutes, he felt through his pocket for the box holding her ring.

Lupin had despaired that he would ever find happiness after his relationship to Nymphadora Tonks had disintegrated years ago. Although they remained friends, there was a distance between them that would most likely never be bridged.

Evelyn was considerably different from Tonks, but she also shared Tonks' ability to look past the werewolf to the man within.

Lupin smiled at everyone as he walked, newly dressed in fine but simple robes. His poverty was a thing of the past, thanks to a thriving practice tutoring young pre-Hogwarts students and also due to a share in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. His "consultancy" had grown into a small but lucrative ownership portion in Fred and George's absurdly successful business.

Diagon Alley itself seemed more cheerful, as the people in the street laughed and joked – it seemed the utter destruction of eight Death Eaters the day before and the surprise public return of Harry in full Auror regalia had newly re-inspired the public.

Lupin was under no illusions about Harry's true physical state. He knew that Harry was still all but incapacitated, but still...

Yes, Harry was still a mess, but to see the son of James Potter, so similar and yet already older than James had ever been, standing in a posture of quiet, confident command had made even the tired werewolf feel hope.

From now on, things would only get better.

Lupin saw a sign advertising a new shipment of books at Flourish & Blotts. Perhaps it would be a good idea to give it a once-over – he certainly didn't want his teaching curriculum to become stale. Unconsciously, he put his hand in the pocket holding Evelyn's ring as he darted across the street.

As he reached the dead center of the street, he felt the wind get knocked out of him with a sudden blow. He looked down at his chest, only to find a silver arrowhead sticking out of his torso.

He felt a salty tang as blood filled his mouth, and was already falling to the ground as the second arrow pieced through the back of his neck.

As he fell, his arms spasmed, ripping his pockets. His eyes followed the ring box as it tumbled from his torn robes, and as he tried to focus on the ring which had fallen out of the box – _i'm dying, i'm dead, it's just not finished yet but i mustn't lose the ring – _he felt his eyelids close against his will. He felt his blood, tainted with silver, burning against his skin, but he couldn't open his eyes. He could hear screaming, but it didn't really seem to concern him, as it sounded so far away and was growing fainter.

_what who why no not now not now please_

The last thing Lupin felt as he died was the curious sensation of the Wolf leaving him – for the brief three or four seconds before his brain shut down from lack of blood, he knew that for the first time since he was five years old, he was free of the Wolf.

High above, perched on the roof of a long-closed store, Walden Macnair let his crossbow drop to his feet as he cast the Dark Mark above the panicking figures below him in the alley. With a last look at the slain werewolf below, he grabbed his Portkey and vanished even as Aurors began to Apparate all around.


	27. Discord

Chapter 27 – Discord

Harry Potter was very tired of funerals.

Harry looked around at the first service he had attended since his own misreported demise. He felt Ginny's hand in his as someone droned on about Remus overcoming adversity to triumph or something like that.

He thought he could do better than the platitudes coming from the Lutheran clergyman – or at least come up with something more honest.

_Yes, well, Moony loved teaching kids, probably because he was just an overgrown kid himself, who really just wanted to play jokes and spend his time buried in his precious books. Oh, yeah, and also occasionally fulfill his more adult urges with that aging supermodel over there. All of you who are thinking about the serious, intense Remus that most of the public saw really should have met my dad's friend Moony._

Harry looked over at Evelyn Clearwater, whose eyes were bright and dry. At that moment, he realized that there would most likely be several Death Eaters dead within a month.

He knew that the trendy, brash, obnoxious but entertaining woman most of the world knew Evelyn to be was gone again. She had never really existed, but one just one facet of a very complex personality. The intense woman who had left the Aurors after three years due to "authority issues" - namely a contempt for limited rules of engagement – was back, and was clearly planning on doing some hunting over the next few months.

He then looked at Draco, who was watching Nymphadora Tonks. That's when he saw it – the sign that all the gloves were off. Draco had followed Tonks' eyes to Evelyn, and saw them meet each other. Lupin's former and current lovers had never liked each other, but now they were clearly on the same page.

_Evelyn is going to go berserk. And I bet Tonks is going to feed her anything she wants from Ministry Intelligence. This should be interesting._

Harry thought that was great. He knew that Arthur Weasley would have a problem with it, and he knew that morally, he should too. Perhaps, before he had been kidnapped and tortured for two years, he would have had doubts too. He found, however, that he just didn't have the heart anymore to summon up any outrage over someone who could hunt Death Eaters like so much game. He did worry, a bit, about what Draco would think about it. Draco was hard to predict.

Harry noticed that Tonya Bellingham was standing about as far away from Draco as possible.

_Yes, of course she is, can't have people think that Draco has already bounced back from losing Ginny back to me since my resurrection. As far as everyone except a few Order members and, oh, yeah, Lucius Fucking Malfoy is concerned, Draco's an emotional wreck who is dying of Kyrene's disease and is waiting for my wife to find a miracle cure._

It can't be said that Harry was angry at Draco. Objectively, he knew that Ginny and Draco had not acted on their desires – and, he fully understood that he had no cause to object at all to whatever did or didn't transpire between Ginny and Draco, since, after all, he had been "dead" for over two years. Indeed, Harry realized that if he did truly die, he wouldn't want any other man besides Draco Malfoy to take his wife. He knew that Draco, with all his skills, wealth and raw power could not only protect Ginny but also make her truly happy.

Of course, sometimes all this enlightened logic merely made Harry want to rip Draco to shreds even more.

Harry tried to distract himself by focusing on the small, solemn-faced girl with slate-grey eyes who was holding the hand of Tonya Bellingham. In the frantic week of attacks and counter-attacks between Remus Lupin's death and his burial, somehow Draco had found the time to meet with his sister – who, in a bizarre circumstance, had been a student of Lupin's private tutoring.

Tutoring, in the case of Emma Malfoy, that was financed anonymously by Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy, who knew that Lupin, werewolf or not, was considered one of the most gifted private tutors in the Wizarding world. Harry didn't know how Lupin would have felt had he known that Lucius Malfoy was paying the bills. He knew that Malfoy Senior had hardly any funds to speak of – the vast bulk of his fortune having been seized and turned over to Draco – and he also knew that Lupin would have taught a child for free if need be no matter who the parents were.

_Emma Malfoy. Nice to see Lucius still has his perverse sense of humor. Draco said that he named his daughter after Lady Hamilton, mistress of Lord Nelson. I'm still not sure if it's because Lucius fancied himself the greatest Englishman since Lord Nelson – odd, considering Malfoy Senior's disdain for Muggles – or if he just liked Emma Hamilton's pluck. Most likely the latter._

Harry winced slightly as Elizabeth, not quite understanding the seriousness of the occasion, poked her head between his legs for a better look. Little Sirius quickly grabbed his younger sister back and whispered in her ear; all this went unnoticed by Ginny, who was clenching her jaw to keep from sobbing.

_Dammit, Ginny, it's taking all my willpower to stand straight through this thing, can't you control our kids for just twenty minutes?_

Harry found himself being bitter quite often lately. He knew it was only natural; being held captive and tortured for two years tended to change the brain wiring a bit.

Knowing that, however, didn't make it any easier.

He was very grateful when the service concluded and he turned to walk with his family to the waiting car. Harry's condition was still more delicate than he wanted the public to know; the sole time he had Apparated since his escape he had thought he would die. Portkeys and Floo Powder were a bit much too; a nice, secure Ministry car was just what the doctor ordered, especially since he wanted to save his energy for the Order meeting that he knew was going to follow the funeral.

In retrospect, it would have been better had Harry injured himself or been otherwise too incapacitated to attend the Order meeting.

The Potter House had hosted many Order meetings in the past, sometimes after grave events. As a rule, Order gatherings went smoothly – everyone liked Harry and his family, and no one wanted to abuse his hospitality by being disruptive at a meeting held in his house. Still, the death of the last Marauder, Harry's unstable mental state, and long-simmering differences on just what a state of war entailed were combining to fuel a perfect storm of emotions that would shake the confidence of the inner circle of the Order.

Perhaps Draco saw it coming, for he approached Harry before the meeting, as wizards and witches were already arriving.

"Harry, look, everybody's raw over Remus' death. I was thinking that we should keep it brief today, maybe even just sort of have a wake for Remus."

"Draco, we have a lot to get done. I understand what you're saying, but we need to figure out how to respond to this."

Draco shrugged. "We have been responding. The Ministry sent us on four raids this week. Four. Arthur can't allow a murder in broad daylight in Diagon Alley to stand. The economy is shaky enough as it is without people thinking they're going to get slaughtered while shopping."

Harry answered in a monotone. "This has nothing to do with people shopping. This has to do with Voldemort being angry at my little press conference and killing one of my friends because of it."

Draco realized then that argument would be futile – and yet he made one more attempt.

"Harry, I know that and you know that, but to the average person in the street all they see is that Voldemort is getting more aggressive and is killing people in public again. Let the Ministry handle it for now. The Order is a mess, we're all tired and we shouldn't plan any sort of response when our emotions are running away with our brains."

Harry glared at Draco. "Lupin was your friend too. I never thought I'd see the day when Draco Malfoy would want to form a committee to respond to the death of a friend."

This was too much for Draco. "Oh, bollocks, Harry, I just think that we shouldn't let a act of terror, even if it was against Remus, cause us to just react and punch back without a plan."

"I have a plan. Keep hitting back until we can't hit anymore."

Draco waived his hand in a gesture more French than English. "Go at them, oh noble Griffindor. I'm just warning you."

Ginny picked that moment to join the two men. "Warn about what, Draco?"

Draco shook his head and said, "Nothing, just had a question" as he turned and walked away to sit at the conjured table in the living room that was now surrounded by Order members.

Ginny gave her husband a quizzical look before taking his arm and attempting to lead him to the table. Harry shook her arm off and muttered something under his breath as he walked past Ginny to sit at the middle of the table.

"Ok, people. Remus is dead. What are we doing about it?"

Ginny looked at Draco, who gave a barely perceptible shrug.

_Don't ask me, I don't know what he's doing._

Harry only allowed a moment to pass by with no answer before saying in a brusque tone, "Amos, what's the Ministry doing about this?"

"Harry, we're all upset about Remus, and we've made some very public counter-attacks to reassure the public we're not just sitting on our duffs. but really Remus is a casualty of war and we can't just throw all our resources at Voldemort in a quest for revenge."

Harry replied in a flat voice. "That is not acceptable."

Amos arched an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I just don't think that's your call."

"Come on, Amos. You're the head of the Aurors. Or are you still thinking like you're the Head of Magical Creatures and maybe it's not such a big deal that another old werewolf was just put down?"

Amos contorted his face in a grimace, and didn't speak for at least half a minute. "Harry, I'm afraid we're not going to get anything done today. I strongly advise you to get some more rest.

As Amos stood up and walked out of the room, Harry screamed after him, "I've had two years of rest! When are we going to get something done? When, Amos?"

Amos paused in the doorway, but did not turn around. After a moment, he walked on and was gone.

Harry looked around at the faces around the table. Most of them looked worried. "Well, that just shows we've got to do it on our own."

Susan Macmillan – formerly known as Susan Bones – spoke up next, "Harry, we know you have some plans running already. We all liked Remus, but is it really honoring his memory to strike out without a plan?"

Harry smiled grimly. "Who needs a plan? We know who a lot of the Death Eaters are, even if we can't prove it. Let's start hitting them. Evelyn, I bet you're going to do just that, eh? Hunting season is open!"

Evelyn's face was like granite as she merely shrugged and said, "I really have no idea what you're talking about, Harry. I'm sorry, I really have to go. "

Draco started rubbing his temples. _Great job, Harry, I don't know if she was planning on doing anything or not, but now she has to worry because if anyone on our "Public List" turns up dead Harry has just semi-publicly proclaimed her to be the number one suspect._

The Public List was an Order compilation of people suspected to be unmarked Death Eaters. They lived normal public lives, as opposed to the fugitive Death Eaters who lived underground. Draco knew that up to a quarter of the Order was connected to Magical Law Enforcement in one way or another and of that quarter, many would have serious issues with attacking Death Eaters in an unsanctioned manner.

Draco, knowing he was making a mistake, said, "Harry, ever since Arthur's taken over the Ministry, the Order has been functioning more as a protective wing and unofficial intelligence gathering arm of the Ministry rather than orchestrating the war effort on its own. The Ministry is doing it's job this time around; using the Order for direct attacks just isn't in the cards. Hell, half of the Order are Ministry employees already, including you and I, I should add."

"So, let's just sit back and wait for Ministry justice for the half-blood werewolf, eh? That's a typical Malfoy position. Learn that from Lucius, did you? Say what the masses need to hear knowing the the bureaucracy will never actually act?"

Everyone was waiting for Draco's explosion. Instead, he quietly said, "Once again, you go too far, Potter."

Harry sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry, Draco. I...I just feel helpless."

Draco shook his head. "I know. So do I. Still. I think Amos had a point. We're not going to accomplish anything today. I move to adjourn."

Someone, no one knew who, called out, "second" and Harry said in a bored monotone, "Motion on table to adjourn. Ayes?"

A chorus of ayes were called out. There was no need to ask about opposition. Harry simply muttered, "Carried" and stood up, watching as the silent Order members filed out of the room as quickly as they could.

Draco watched them go, knowing that those assembled today had gone from feeling hope and joy at the return of Harry Potter to worrying about their hero's emotional stability.

He looked at Harry, who was standing there, looking at the backs of the few remaining members of the Order who hadn't filed through the door yet. His eyes met Ginny's and he motioned her to join him outside the living room.

Ginny gave him her most plastic fake smile as she said brightly, "Well, that certainly went well, don't you think?"

Draco laughed. "Oh yeah. Is that Harry the same Harry who saved my public image with a masterful display of public relations a week ago? Because that meeting was handled with all the grace of a chimpanzee addressing Parliament."

Ginny shrugged. "He knows. He's all over the place right now."

"Will you talk to him later?"

Ginny shook his head. "No need. He knows he goofed."

Draco snorted. "He's damned lucky to have you, you know?"

Ginny simply smiled. "Of course."

Draco said, "I promised Tonya a date in Italy the day the orphanage was attacked, and I still haven't followed up on that. I'm going to take care of that now, but if you need me, floo me at Zambini's flat in Rome. She'll know how to find me. Ok?"

Ginny pouted slightly, "Oh, right, you run off with your little Muggle girl and leave me to deal with Mr. Cheerful on my own. So much for solidarity."

Draco chuckled. "Watch how you say "little Muggle girl" with such a sneering tone. If Aunt Bella heard you say that phrase in that tone she might actually revoke your beloved "Weasley Blood Traitor" label."

Ginny laughed as she lightly slapped Draco on the shoulder. "Perish the thought. Go. Have fun."

A moment after Draco left, she went to see Harry. He was still standing alone in the living room.

"I really bollixed that up, didn't I?"

Ginny put her arm around Harry's waist. "It's been a rough week. We'll have a new meeting in a week and talk about dry budget figures or something, you'll make a couple of jokes and everything will be fine."

Harry shrugged her arm off.

"I really just want to be alone right now."

Ginny kept her voice level as she replied, "if that's what you think is best."

Harry spun around. "Budget figures? Budget figures? We have a war to fight, and you want me to waste another Order meeting talking about irrelevancies?"

Ginny spoke slowly, enunciating her words very clearly and precisely, which alerted Harry to her growing anger – not that he cared. "No, darling, I want people to see you acting like a normal person next week so that they will continue to follow you and perhaps forget about your obvious stress that you displayed today."

Harry's voice raised again. "Obvious stress! Yeah, like what has your father done since I've been gone? ALL the stress is on me and no one else! Me! Only I can win this war, and no one wants to help me!"

Ginny yelled back, "My father held this world together while you were dead, damn you, and when everyone lost hope he kept the war effort going. He can't win the war without you, but if it wasn't for him there might not even BE a war, we would have lost and Voldemort would have already taken the Ministry, so you better think twice before insulting my father you bastard!"

Harry bellowed back, "Bastard, is it?"

Ginny took a breath. "You are my husband, and I love you, but right now you are being a royal prick. I have been patient with you through all this, but maybe you need more help than I can handle. Maybe Hermione is right and you need to see one of those people who helps with problems."

Harry stopped screaming. "Oh, so now you think I'm nutters too?"

"No. I think you've been through hell and I'm scared I don't know how to help you."

"You can help me by standing by me. That is, if you really want to stand by me and not Draco?"

Ginny looked at Harry with contempt. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Well, he's so calm, cool and collected, is he? Unlike your nutter husband!"

Ginny realized that her fingers were gripping her wand, and were turning white. She decided she had to remove herself, now.

"Harry, I love you, but I do not deserve that and unless you really want to learn more about the Bat-Bogey Hex than you've ever wanted to know you better watch what you say. I will sleep in a spare room tonight. You can have our bedroom."

She turned around and began walking away, and tried to let Harry see her cry as he yelled out, "Go to hell!"

A moment later, she heard the door slam as he left.

A few minutes later, as she realized he was truly gone, she realized that he was in no shape to be wandering around on his own. He was still too vulnerable to be in public alone without protection. As her sobs started to break free, she pulled out a pocket mirror from her dresser and spoke into it.

"Hermione?"

Hours later, Harry shuffled down a dark street. He was dizzy; he hadn't had alcohol in over two years and perhaps that last pint had been a bit too much. Thankfully, he had managed to maintain the glamour spell that concealed his identity from the other bar patrons. He was glad to be out of the bar; his damaged lungs couldn't handle the smoky environment. Besides, he needed to be somewhere. Somewhere he wouldn't be judged or have demands put on him.

He just hoped he had the right street.

Looking at the building facade, he realized he had the right flat. Above the door, on the second floor, a bedroom window was lit. In the dark street, Luna Lovegood's window shone like a beacon, drawing him in. A tangle of emotions swept through him, but the light seemed to be inviting him, as if he had no where else to go. A moment later, he knocked on the door.


	28. Firecall

Chapter 28 – Firecall

Draco was trying on clothes in Blaize Zabini's Italian house. The "flat" he had described to Ginny was in actuality an ancient two bedroom house in the countryside outside Rome. Surrounded by high walls and resting on roughly two acres, its seclusion had seemed perfect for a weekend getaway with Tonya.

Unfortunately for Draco, Tonya had not been able to make the trip. At the last possible moment, Arthur had asked Tonya to work through the weekend on some issue the Muggle government was raising a fuss over. So, Draco decided to go shopping for new clothes, an activity that he showed great aptitude for.

His self-admiration was interrupted as the fireplace burst into flames. He knew that only Zabini and Ginny knew where he was, and he was pretty sure that in a moment the flames would resolve into Ginny's face.

Draco was astonished when instead of Ginny Potter the face resolved into a face he truly was not expecting.

_Looney Luna Lovegood?!_

"Draco Malfoy? Calling Draco Malfoy! Calling Draco Malfoy! Are you there?"

Draco had never had much to do with Luna Lovegood, and he was utterly at a loss to think of a reason that she would be calling him.

"I'm here, Luna. What can I do for you?"

Luna smiled. "I have a very drunk Harry Potter here. Do you have any suggestions on what I should do with him?"

Draco shrugged. "What would you like to do with him?"

Luna wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Were he sober and unattached, I can think of many things I'd like to do with him, but right now I just want him out of my house."

"Call his wife."

Luna frowned. "I don't think that would be a good idea. He really shouldn't be here in this condition, you know. I can handle Harry but I wouldn't want Ginny to get the wrong idea and get angry at me."

Draco sighed, and turned his back on the fire. "Luna, you do know where I am, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Draco Malfoy. You're quite the important society figure and I would be remiss in my job if I didn't have some of my best reporters following your every move."

"Some of your best? What are your worst like?"

Luna lowered her voice, as if afraid to betray a secret. "Please don't tell anyone – I really don't want to hurt anyone's feelings – but sometimes I think the ones I stole away from the _Prophet_ are a bit too conventional in their thinking."

"That's horrible, Luna. You should do something about that."

Luna beamed. "I know! I've organized a Snorkack hunt for next month as a team building exercise. Would you like to come, Draco Malfoy?"

"Thank you, no. I'm afraid I am quite too busy to go chasing after miraculous creatures."

Luna looked downcast. "I'm sorry to hear that, Draco Malfoy."

"Back to business, Luna. You know I'm in Italy. Do you know what a pain in the arse it would be to come back early? All my documents are for travel a week from now."

"You could Apparate."

"It's a hell of a long way to Apparate, Luna."

Luna gave him yet another serene smile. "You're a very powerful wizard, Draco Malfoy. I know you can Apparate back to England."

"Why are you so intent on getting me to deal with it? And why do you keep calling me by my full name, Luna Lovegood?"

Luna's face brightened. "Because it would be nice to see you, Dra-co Mal-foy," she said, dragging out each syllable, carefully enunciating each sound as she repeated the name, "Dra-co Mal-foy. I just like saying it. It really is a lovely name...it sounds like sex and rich chocolate and fine wine. It rolls off the tongue so nicely. And besides, Harry is our friend. We shouldn't leave him like this."

Draco tried to hide his shock, but he couldn't resist teasing Luna a bit. Besides, she was oddly fetching in a lost-waif sort of way, and it was always good to keep his options open. "Luna Lovegood, you are a fascinating person to be sure, but if we were to spend a romantic night together wouldn't you feel honor-bound to report it in that charming little publication of yours?"

Luna looked stricken. "Oh my. I hadn't thought that through. I really am a very private person. But I also should do what's best for the magazine. Why, Draco Malfoy, now you've really stumped me."

"Well, are you going to report on the Hero of the Wizarding World lying drunk and amorous on your kitchen floor?"

Luna looked appalled. "Most certainly not. I don't report on the private affairs of my friends."

Draco mimicked the look on Luna's face. "And yet you don't know whether you would report on me?"

Luna answered calmly. "We're not friends. You're a friend of a friend. Now, we could work on becoming friendly, but that's up to you."

"Luna, can I take a raincheck on that offer?"

"Only if you come and get this drunken hero out of my living room."

Draco had lost, and he knew it. "Done. I'll be there in a bit."

A short time later, Draco had bundled a very drunk and foul-smelling Harry Potter into a taxicab. He was trying not to pay too much attention to Luna, standing in the doorway wearing a thin sundress that seemed to drift in the wind. She was waving goodbye. Potter's thankfully brief periods of awareness were usually announced by a truly repetitious stream of profanity.

Draco tried to tell himself that he didn't pity his friend.

_What condition would I be in after two years in Voldemort's clutches?_

The Muggle taxi driver looked back at the two occupants of the cab.

"Right pissed your mate is, isn't he? Man can't hold his liquor, maybe he shouldn't drink, that's what I say."

Draco glared at their driver. "He's seen things in the war that would make you soil yourself. Now shut your mouth and drive."

Harry picked that moment to mumble. "Yeah. I went to war. I went to war when I was one year old only to have my friend try to shag my wife. Sod you all."

Draco closed his eyes and clenched his fists. The drive to the Potter house was both unbearably long and mercifully quiet.

Thankfully, Ginny and her children were not home as Draco supported a still-shaky Harry on his walk to the Potter House. Draco didn't reply to the steady stream of invective spewing from his erstwhile friend.

As he opened the door, Harry tried to shake Draco off roughly. Draco was fed up and shoved Harry, hard, so that he toppled into a chair. Harry collapsed, glaring at Draco with eyes of hate.

"You bastard. You're loving seeing me like this, aren't you? You've always been jealous of me."

Draco looked at Harry with contempt. "Maybe once, Harry. That was a long time ago."

"Screw you. You just want to take my wife."

"If that was true, I'd have a little chat with her about your little trip to Luna's."

Harry looked puzzled for a moment. "I was at Luna's?"

"Yes, you daft prick."

"Oh. Did I...did she say if...did I do...anything?"

"Other than make an ass of yourself, no. Apparently Luna has the wise judgment to only like you when you're sober. When you're drunk, it appears that she's more attracted to me."

Harry frowned. "Go to hell, Malfoy. Stay with your own little sluts and stop going for my leftovers."

Draco darted forward and thrust his hand against Harry chest, pinning him to the chair.

"If you refer to Ginny as leftovers ever again I will give you ample reason to be jealous of me."

Harry struggled feebly against Draco's arm, before giving up and rasping, "I won't let you take her from me."

Draco released Harry, and said in a resigned voice. "I could never take her from you, Harry. She's not the type of woman who can be taken. Despite what a fool you are, she's yours to lose, my friend. But if you're insane enough to push her away in your anger, if you are so supremely ignorant that you don't know you can only lose her by continuing your descent into self-destruction, then I won't turn her away when the time comes."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I still hope you can come back from wherever you've gone, Harry. But I don't think you can do it without her, and that won't be an option for you if you keep acting like this. Get your shit together. I'd like to have my friend Harry Potter back someday, if he doesn't destroy himself first."

Harry wisely didn't say anything as Draco turned around and left his house.


	29. Battlefield Injuries

Chapter 29 – Battlefield Injuries

Draco had given up on any thoughts of vacation. His newly-found sister, his obviously severely damaged friend, and his confusing romantic inclinations were threatening to drive him insane.

He awoke gasping from a half-remembered dream involving himself entwined with a nearly naked Luna Lovegood on a blanket in a grassy field, where they had been surrounded by a flock of grazing Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Luna was looking particularly fetching, clad only in a pair of mismatched socks and adorned with radish earrings. Ginny and Tonya had been watching, occasionally holding up scoreboards much like old-style figure-skating judges. The booming commentary on the "action" that was provided by an unseen Lee Jordan was enough to wake Draco and convince him it was time to escape to his rarely-used office at the Ministry.

The Auror office was quiet at three in the morning, and Draco managed to review an hours' worth of after-action reports on confrontations with Death Eaters before he was stunned by the appearance of Amos Diggory.

Diggory did not seem very surprised to see Draco in the office at such an early hour.

"Bloody hell. You've heard too, Malfoy?"

"Heard what, Amos?"

Diggory's eyes narrowed. "You haven't heard? You're just here at four in the morning for your health?"

"More like my sanity, Amos. Couldn't sleep, a fair bit on my mind, thought I would come in here and be productive. What's going on?"

"Ah, I thought you had somehow heard that the bloody Americans have buggered us again. Thought you might have come in to help pick up the pieces."

"If it's help you need, Amos, I'm ready to serve."

"Good man. It appears that the American President doesn't want any more conflicts right now, even magical ones that are hidden from the Muggles. He's ordered the Department of Magical Affairs to sign an agreement with Lord Voldemort."

Malfoy was stunned. He blurted out, "You are fucking kidding, right, Amos? The night watch team called you when I came in to work early and you decided to come in and put the piss-take on me, right?"

"I wish to God I was. And all hell's about to break loose. With us, the Americans, Voldemort, everything."

"What's the agreement?"

Amos snorted. "Their President thinks he's Neville Bloody Chamberlain or something. All that's missing is the "peace in our time" quote. Unbreakable Vow, Voldemort forever refrains from attacks or interference on America and in return we get no support, zilch, from their DMA. No intelligence, no magical equivalent of Lend-Lease, even their Portkey watch lists will no longer have the names of known Death Eaters. What does that say to you?"

Draco shook his head. "It says that Voldemort's somehow found a way to get around an Unbreakable Vow."

Amos nodded. "That's our take, too. There's a clause that says the Vow is void if the Americans strike against Voldemort, we're guessing that Voldemort thinks that sooner or later the Americans will have to do something once everyone else falls and then they'll be outpowered by Voldemort."

"No chance. Voldemort's not that patient. He's not going to take the chance that lower levels of the DMA will find a way to funnel support to us. He needs to strike sooner."

Amos gave a dry laugh. "Lower levels indeed. The Secretary of the DMA, the Assistant Secretary, and his deputy all resigned upon reading the presidential order. They refused to carry it out, their president had to appoint a new Secretary. This is all from their chief of Foreign Magical Intelligence, who not only resigned but immediately packed up his family, portkeyed to our Ministry and requested political asylum. Both him and Melissa Kaufusi, actually, that delightful woman who briefed Harry. Appears she's afraid she'd be facing charges if she went back to the States, because everyone knows that she's not going to stop helping us whether it's under government authority or not."

Draco absorbed that. "The political ramifications are going to go beyond the Magical world, aren't they?"

"Right in one. I wasn't kidding about all hell breaking loose. We just heard about this a few hours ago. I'm surprised you didn't hear anything from the night duty Auror."

"Do tell. I did wonder why there was only one Auror on the floor and not two."

"Remember I said their intel chief came to the Ministry? He apparently is rather well-connected. He grabbed one of the duty Aurors, new man, Hugglesworth. Demanded he call the bloody Queen and use his name. Windsor woke the Queen up. Quarter after midnight. She calls the PM and Arthur, orders them to Windsor. Arthur wakes me up. I wake up half of Legal. And you, Draco Ace Auror Malfoy, didn't notice that half the Ministry was streaming into work at three-thirty in the morning?"

"I do like to focus on my work, Amos."

Amos smiled. "Good thing, that. We have an op that needs to go, now. Voldemort hasn't done anything yet – I think he's underestimated Arthur. Except what I have to say next doesn't really come from Arthur, really, well, the logistics do but the attitude is straight from Her Royal Highness. Her Majesty, it seems, is a bit upset at the Americans."

Draco did not need a translator to realize that "a bit upset" meant absolutely furious.

Amos continued. "For the first time in two hundred years or so, the PM is not making national policy. It's being directed, totally, by the Queen. He's being a smart lad and going along with it, not getting in her way. This is an unprecedented situation; just prior to World War II we had to deal with an America that wanted to stick its head in the sand, but at least they had a President who recognized what Hitler and Grindelwald were. He managed to get the Colonials on enough of a war footing, and managed to slip us enough aid to stay alive, until the Japanese forced America to wake up. I think I shall say a prayer for both Franklin Roosevelt and Queen Elizabeth tonight. Now we have the opposite. There are elements in America that want to help us, but their government appears to be nothing more than clones of Cornelius Fudge."

Draco saw where Amos was going. "She's going to destroy the American President, isn't she?"

Amos' face was grim. "She's never, ever acted like this before, but the woman has sixty solid years of observing the political behavior of every government on the planet. There is no one, no one at all as politically astute as she is. She will not tolerate Lord Voldemort using the United States of America as a safe refuge to launch attacks against her country."

"We are now, de facto, in a Cold War against the government of the United States. The PM is going to keep his mouth shut; she needs him strong and right now appearing to get angry for no reason at the Americans is not going to do him any good in Muggle opinion polls. He's going to move slowly. Arthur, and the rest of Magical Britain, well, we're going on a slash and burn campaign."

Draco nodded, as Amos went on. "This morning, the _Daily Prophet_ is going to reveal, in full, every excruciating detail of Voldemort's plan to trick the US into starting a nuclear war. The magical American press will of course have the same story. In the Muggle American press, we already have people who are going to publish that an attempt by terrorists to attack American cities with nuclear weapons was foiled at the last possible moment by British Intelligence. The Russians – and don't ask me how the hell she did this, or what she offered them – have agreed to actually publicly admit that they lost track of a few warheads and launch codes, and that their dutiful attempts to warn the Americans were stonewalled by the White House. And that's not all."

Draco somehow knew that he would be involved in what came next.

"All cooperation, and I do mean all, with the Americans on Magical Affairs, is over, done, finished, at least until they get a new President. They have some little half-arsed Dark Wizard who has been giving them problems for a couple of decades. He's no Voldemort, but the Americans take him quite seriously. Remember that little prick, Benedict Whiting, who Melissa had to Oblivate at Harry's?"

"Unfortunately."

"It appears that incredibly useless piece of shit is their new Secretary of Magical Affairs, after their entire upper echelon resigned in disgust."

"Lovely." Draco's tone was flat.

"Quite. Appears, however, that his claim to fame in the DMA prior to his sudden ascension was supervising the investigation into said dark wizard. For years. And, he's signed off personally on about a quarter of a billion American dollars in funds over the years on this little project, which apparently has had some trouble collecting the necessary evidence for their legal system to put this wizard of theirs away."

Amos looked at the ceiling. "They've been focusing on trying to build a conviction based on a smuggling operation that starts on British soil. Would be a great shame if our forbearance in allowing that operation to continue ended due to Mr. Whiting not filing the proper paperwork with our government."

Once again, Draco mentally translated what Amos was saying. The Aurors had backed off pursuing the smuggling operation so that the Americans could run their own ridiculously expensive investigation. For whatever reason, it seemed that the British Ministry felt that if the smuggling operation was interrupted prematurely then the American investigation would collapse. And, most likely, pro-British elements in the American DMA had already caused the needed paperwork to vanish from the American files, thereby undermining confidence in the new Secretary.

Draco said, "I'm sure the American press will be thrilled to see three high officials resign in one night, only to see their replacement be immediately resolved as an absolute incompetent."

Amos added in a wry note, "Something similar happened there once before, under their President Nixon. Their press called it "The Saturday Night Massacre." You may recall Nixon later wound up resigning."

"Before my time."

"You really should study Muggle history more, Draco."

Draco ignored Amos' joking insult. "Where am I going this morning?"

"Ah yes, the meat. You get to wake up someone now. Get Ron. You're going on a raid. Seems like there's a small matter of some American smugglers that needs to be dealt with."

A couple of hours later, Draco and Ron had been briefed on the raid plan. A group of four Aurors, including Draco and Ron, would Portkey into a small tugboat along with eight members of Magical Law Enforcement. Dawlish described the plan.

"The interior of the tugboat has been magically enlarged to be able to handle about four large holds. They're smuggling illegal and stolen magical artifacts from Europe to the States. There should be four suspects at the time we Portkey in. Subdue anyone you find and let the MLE's catalog the contraband. No heroics, this is a political mission to make a point, although we do want some convictions. Their little Dark Wizard is no longer our problem, a crime has been committed on British soil and we are being dutiful enforcers of the law."

Ron turned to Draco and said, "Political mission. I have tickets to the Cannons tonight. If my report takes too long to write I'm going to tell Dad I'm not voting for him in the next election."

Draco laughed and followed Ron and the other Aurors into another room. There were four orange cones in the room, and each one was about a meter and half tall. One Auror and three MLE officers moved to encircle each cone.

Draco stood before his cone, and listened to Dawlish count down.

"Grasp portkey, prepare for transport in three-two-one"

The Ministry vanished, but Draco and the MLE officers did not appear directly in the tugboat – instead, they seemed encased in gelatin, and they could see figures moving beyond the gel as if they were in heavy fog.

Draco was disoriented, but he realized it was some sort of anti-Portkey ward – and to his horror, he saw that instead of the expected suspect or two in each of the four holds, there were well over a dozen figures beyond the fog.

Each figure was holding a wand, and pointing those wands at Draco and the other trapped holders of the Portkey.

Abruptly, the fog vanished. Draco and the officers slammed to the deck. Draco and two MLE's landed on their feet, one MLE rolled away, and one just fell on the deck, all balance lost.

Multicolored lights flashed overhead and all around. The man on the deck was hit by at least four curses and immediately exploded, showering blood all over his teammates who were frantically attempting to erect shields.

Two MLE's attempted to dive back towards the Portkey, only to be hit by more curses.

Draco didn't even have time to count the number of his opponents – his shield was already breaking down. He saw that only one MLE officer was left alive, and he shouted, "GO! GET OUT!"

Thankfully, there was no Anti-Apparation jinx preventing people from Apparating out – the officer vanished with a _pop!_

Draco began to Apparate just as his shield failed – he felt something graze his side – and then – there was a sickly feeling in his stomach as he fell to the floor in the Refuge Room, the one place in the Auror office where someone could Apparate to.

Something was wrong. Draco looked around. He realized -

-he was much too short.

_I've been splinched._

Draco looked down where his torso met the floor, looking for his absent legs even though he knew they were back in the tugboat.

And then, as the criminals back in the boat realized what had happened and began aiming curses at Draco's legs, Draco began to scream.


End file.
